Airplane!
by LilyPrincess
Summary: Very AU. After missing the concert of the year due to a stupid muggle mishap, Lily Evans gets on a plane to fly off to Chicago, ready to spend a good few weeks with her father. The trip there, however, turns out better than the missed concert. Complete!
1. The Missed Concert

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing recognizable. I do, however, own anything that is not.

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_Lumos_

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Have you ever been lucky enough to attend a concert featuring your favorite band? It's one of the most amazing things a teenager can experience in their lives. Looking up with a crowd of thousands just like you into the beautifully sweating faces. Maybe, for one lucky moment, one of the members looks down at the crowd straight at you, sending a gorgeous smile your way. And, after that, the same member strips from his sweaty shirt and throws it into the crowd- amazingly landing directly into your grasp. 

I, unfortunately, wasn't lucky enough to attend a concert featuring my favorite band as a teenager. And I wasn't lucky enough to have one of the members of my favorite band stare down at me and smile. And I wasn't lucky enough to catch that sweat stained shirt with my bony, pale fingers.

The only thing worse than realizing that sad thought was knowing I had been only a flat tire away from receiving my chance at that all.

* * *

"Damn," Marianna Slovetty cursed as she stood up from her crouched position on the dirt road. Marianna was a priss. Under normal circumstances, she would have squealed indignantly at the realization that the dirt from the road and stuck partly on the bottom of her once immaculately white, short shorts. At the moment, she didn't care. Who could care about something so petty at a crucial time like this? 

Her body steadily appearing from behind her rusted, dented and old 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle Nomad station wagon, Marianna's eyes flashed angrily, "Well, the tire's completely flat."

From beside me, Jolene Miller and Abigail Reynolds let out twin disappointed sighs. Walking off a few paces, Abigail kicked the dirt and rocks on the ground angrily. "Oh, well this is bloody fantastic," Jolene cursed in frustration. "You do realize there's no civilization around these parts for close to ten miles…more importantly the concert is nearly _twenty_ miles away-,"

"I know the distances, Jo," Marianna snapped, "I _have_ been driving for the past hour, you know."

Rolling my eyes, I just wordlessly walked around the piece of junk Marianna had often called her car and squatted down to investigate further. With a grim look, my eyes spotted the source of all this trouble. Reaching out, I pulled a rusted nail from the weak rubber tire and held it up to my face. Shaking my head wryly and stood up and yanked Marianna's hand with one of my own, placing the nail upon her palm.

"Keep it," I snapped, "You can situate it affectionately under a spotless glass shield and place it on your mantle. The nail that caused the four of us to miss the best flippin' concert of the century!"

"Oh save me from another one of your rants, _please_," Marianna rolled her eyes. "If you think you can shove the blame in my direction, do think again. This would have never happened if you hadn't insisted we take the _quote, unquote_ 'short way'."

"Why did we even bring you," Jolene snapped at me, glaring thousands of daggers my way.

I simply raised my eyebrow and walked leisurely in a directionless pace, not answering at all. I wasn't exactly sure the real reason I had been invited…The only reason I could have possibly come up with had been because Abigail was my roommate back home in Surrey. We never really got along- we fought and bickered from the littlest of things like who drank the last of the milk without buying another carton.

Her friends, Jolene and Marianna, weren't fond of me from the very beginning. I'm happy to say those feelings were completely mutual. The three of them were muggles- I'm a witch. They never knew back then and still to this very day no nothing of my secret (not like I'm around any of the three anymore to indulge in that little hush-hush).

Maybe if I hadn't let my own pride get in the way, I might have revealed my secret to them and fixed the tire straight off. Even now I don't know what would have happened if I had done that. We probably would have made the concert on time and witnessed first hand Black Magic casting a bewitching spell on us. Ironic, isn't it that one of the most famous bands in muggle and wizard England happened to be a Wizarding band? I'm sure they always had a tough time holding back their real magic while performing a muggle concert instead of a Wizarding one. I, frankly, would have enjoyed seeing the Wizarding one. But, I think the initial shock of being offered a ticket by Abigail completely tainted my judgment.

So, there we were, the four of us less-than-delighted nineteen year olds stuck in the middle of nowhere, forced to walk to the nearest gas station for a towing truck- which had taken nearly three hours- thus completely missing Black Magic's once-anticipation concert.

* * *

Three days after that regrettable episode, word reached me that my father wished for my presence at his home in ChicagoIllinois. Luckily I had just past through my first term at a Medi-witch university (my roommate believe me to be attending Oxford) and had three whole months to goof off and have a great time. _Un_luckily, the beginning of that break had been tainted with the disappointment of missing the concert. 

It had been with great reluctance that I pulled my self out of bed on the fourth day prior to missed concert and fixed myself up to sit on a plane for hours on end. I left the house- unsurprisingly failing to bid my roommate farewell. Before I had left, though, I placed a heavy locking charm on the door to my room, lest Abigail and her horrid friends steal from me.

The ride to the airport had been boring…nothing out of the ordinary and whatnot. The trip to the actual plane had been the same. I've been on a fair few airplanes in my life, having been muggle-born. And, my fear of apparating made it all the more natural that I would take many more rides on them for years to come.

So, the ride _to_ the airport had been boring, and the walk _to_ the airplane had been boring…wouldn't it only add up that the actual _plane ride_ would be the most interesting I'd ever been through in my entire life…maybe even significant enough to _alter_ my life?


	2. The Meeting

_Thump _

"Sorry," came the voice of a brisk, middle-aged man with grey frosting his obviously once jet black hair. As I rubbed my head after it having come in contact with the man's very heavy duffle bag, I shot him a weak smile and nodded in acceptance to his apology. My legs carried me a few more rows up the crowded isle of the air plane- coach, not first class (father had apologized profusely after having broke the news to me…I suppose he had forgotten that never once had I stepped even a toe into the first class section of a plane. What did I care whether or not I had coach?)

After having my toes- which lacked protection in any way seeing as how I had been wearing sandals- stepped on nearly three times by passengers eager to get to their seats five seconds before me, I finally made it to my own humble abode for the next eight hours. I already had a neighbor, too…actually, I suppose it was more accurate to say _he_had a neighbor now.

The _he _who I am referring to happened to be the most gorgeous guy my nineteen year old eyes had ever fallen upon. The way each shaggy, black strand of hair was placed in a completely different direction to the next- perfectly framing his beautiful face- almost made me loose my balance and start a domino effect with the rest of the people standing before me in the long isle. The way his glasses hid, yet charmingly magnified, his eyes- which happened to be the most amazing shade of chocolate brown I'd ever seen- sent my heart into racing gallops, rippling the blood running through my veins to heat my cheeks in a delighted flush. This man couldn't have been past twenty-two, I had guessed…and I was going to be sharing an armrest with him for the entire trip. I nearly swooned at the thought.

Realizing I had been standing in one spot for the past two minutes without moving- actually, the woman behind me wordlessly pointed that out to me when she uncivilly pushed me aside and stampeded past with a scowl on her face, shooting me a cold glare as she past. I just stared at her, still a little love-struck to actually shoot her back an angry stare. I think I must have jolted the woman with my blank stare the way she kept shooting me glances every so often from her seat three rows up from me, sitting next to a younger man with sandy blonde hair.

A deep, baritone voice pulled me from my dazzled fantasy. I finally pulled my eyes away from space to move them down to the guy I was dreaming about. He was chuckling, shooting the pushy woman glances in imitation to hers. "I think you frightened her," the black haired man said to me good-naturedly.

For a moment, I froze, finding myself unable to sew letters together to flash some words at the dazzling face I was staring at. After a few seconds, the man raised an eyebrow, his face still holding an easy smile. "Are you alright?" he asked me casually as though we'd known each other for years. If I had a diary, those words would definitely be going in it.

That brought me back to reality as my face flushed slightly and I finally, to the relief of more passengers waiting behind me, took a seat next to him. I had the isle seat; it would be wasted on my short legs. The second I took a seat, I realized I still had my pack around my shoulders. The large leather bag was now resting without balance on the end armrest. Fate took its chance for a good laugh and decided to let my bag drop off to the side, pulling my shoulders and neck along with it. My mouth betrayed me by allowing a soft, struggling sound escape my lips. The bag hadn't hit the floor, due to my clumsy body holding it a foot from the carpet, but a good amount of the contents fell to the floor. I frantically began to scrap them back into the back, feeling like a flustered pre-teenager.

Taking a moment to swallow and collect myself, I shot back up to my feet and forced my bag into the storage space above the seats. Finally, I was ready to sit back down and face my neighbor, who had- to my horror- been watching my actions the entire time with an amused smile.

Face as red as the can of Coca Cola he held in his hand, it took a lot of force to move my eyes back up to meet his face, something I hadn't had trouble with just three minutes earlier. "I'm fine," I finally replied to his question…the first words I'd heard him speak. Another strike against my self-esteem…I had stuttered my answer to him.

He nodded and replied, "Good." Tossing me one last smile, he went back to his reading. A Tale of Two Cities...a classic. A classic beauty reading a classic book. I almost swooned.

Taking his lead, I, too, went on to my own business. For a moment, the sad, unfortunate occurrence of last weekend's escapade had fled my mind. It came back with a bitter vengeance as I held back a sigh and pulled a magazine from my bag (I didn't make one clumsy move in the effort to get it, I'm happy to say).

I bit my lip, realizing I had brought along my Wizarding magazine instead of my muggle one. After a moment's contemplation, I decided my want to read the latest article on Black Magic was more important than being seen with a magazine full of moving pictures. Memory charms were a dime a dozen, as the muggle saying goes; I was just going to have to be cautious about not letting anyone see it.

And I was doing rather well in the compromise with myself until the article of Sirius Black came to my attention. Sirius Black- the leader of Black Magic- was the most brilliant musician ever to come into account. He was amazing; well, vocally, he was amazing. Can't say much for his looks basically because I hadn't seen his appearance. And that went for the rest of the world as well concerning all four members of the band.

The group of four had made it perfectly clear at the start of their fame that no one but themselves and a select few would be seeing their identities. Anytime anyone saw them, they had been sporting artistic face paint for the muggle world, and had a very strong concealing charm upon them for the magical world. The band was apparently big on privacy- a topic I completely respected. In fact, it had only been last year that their names had been revealed by muggle and wizard press alike.

So caught up in the article of the mysterious leader of the group, I hadn't noticed the man beside me staring at the magazine in my hands until he suddenly spoke with his gorgeous voice. "Moving pictures, eh?"

Startled, I snapped the magazine close and asked, frazzled, "Pardon?" My face gave away my nervousness.

He smiled lopsidedly at me and repeated, "Moving pictures…didn't expect that on a muggle airplane."

My face dropped in shock. "You're a wizard?" I whispered breathlessly.

The man laughed loudly, obviously not the slightest bit concerned about any attention drawing to him like I would have. "Would be incredibly hard for me to come up with those words all by me onesie if I wasn't, wouldn't it?" he teased slightly, taking the magazine from my hands.

I blinked, taking a moment to let his words sink in before I realized he had my magazine. I turned to look at it now in his possession. He stared at me for a moment before looking down to the page I had been reading. A look of dawning appeared on his face. "Black Magic…I see, then," he shot me another amused smile. "Like 'em, do you?"

"Like 'em?" I repeated in astonishment despite myself, "They're bloody unbelievable!" I exclaimed. Now that one had earned me stares from a few around me. I met their stares with a red face. "They're brilliant," I repeated in a softer, calmer voice.

The man nodded and stared back down at the page. "They're very mysterious," he put in, inspecting the picture of James Potter, the bass guitarist for the group. "Can't even tell what color their eyes are with all those concealing charms placed on them."

I smiled at the picture of James affectionately and said quietly, "I wish I new...I don't think it'll ever happen, though."

The man looked up at me, his brown eyes penetrating mine as he stared with a blank face moment. Finally, the smile I was growing to adore came back onto his lips, his eyes crinkling at the sides from the effort. "Miracles have been known to happen," he said, optimistically.

I looked back up at him and smiled despite myself. "I had plans to see one of their muggle concerts last weekend," I admitted for a reason I still don't know to this very day. At the time, I didn't even know the man's name; let alone whether or not he even cared about hearing my sob story. But, the way he stared warmly at me, and the fact that he was a wizard gave me a little more courage.

His eyes twinkled with genuine interest. "Did you?" he asked, his tone slightly admirable. "That must have been exciting."

"It would have been, I'm sure," I answered, downheartedly, "They're my favorite band by far, and I missed their concert…

The man's smile dropped into a slight frown.

I sighed and went on, "On the way there, the carpool I was riding in was delayed three hours by a flat tire." I shrugged. "We all missed it."

He nodded sympathetically, handing me back the magazine. I took it and stared down at the four face of Black Magic before closing it and turning back to him. "Have you ever missed something like that?" I asked him curiously.

He stared for a few moments before nodding. "Yes, actually. When I was about sixteen, my sister's fifth birthday party was suppose to be taken place at a park near our house. I really wanted to go to that…to see her blow out the candles and witness her face light up even after the glow was gone from the cake." He smiled once more for a moment before sighing and going on with a solemn face, "Unfortunately, I had a concert- a Christmas concert from the orchestra at my school, that is- that I couldn't miss. So, I missed her birthday instead."

Then, it was now turn to smile sympathetically at him. With hesitation to touch something so beautiful, I reached out my hand and patted his. He sighed again in reply and said, "Such is life, I suppose."

I smiled wider, "My mother always says that."

He just smiled again and chuckled slightly, taking a hearty drink of his cola.

Hello all! I forced myself to write _something _for you all, so I just hope you aren't disappointed with this one. Please review and feel free to chew me out for my lack of absence with my stories. Sorry to all my fans!


	3. The Second Hour

1An hour later, I was pleased to acknowledge that I hadn't done a single embarrassing thing in the last sixty minutes. In fact, I was building back my confidence bit by bit. The man hadn't spoken another word to me all this time, only sitting there in apparent peace, sipping away at him cola and staring out the window, watching the cotton fluffs of passing clouds seep past.

Under the careful inspection of my peripheral vision, he kept moving his legs around; almost fidgety. And with good reason, too...the woman in the seat directly in front of him had taken a liking to leaning the back of said seat nearly all the way to a horizontal position. She was snoring rather loud, as well- much to the annoyance of the man to her right, who occasionally shot irritable glances.

At that moment, the woman let out a particularly loud grunt...it was a loud enough to cause her large framed glasses to lightly vibrate, catching a glare of the overhead lights. Everyone in the surrounding perimeter all lightly groaned, some rolling their eyes- me included. If this woman was going to sleep the entire way there, I think I was going to have a fit; and I did i not /i want to have a fit in front of the guy to my right.

I stole a glance over at him, almost laughing out loud at the expression on his face. He was leaning- well, practically slumped- on the armrest he wasn't sharing with me, his chin resting on his fist. He rolled his eyes and lightly sighed, softly moving his legs up and down to thump against the back of the woman's seat and staring almost curiously at her to see if the light taps of her seat would disturb her. I leaned in and licked my lips and hesitated before saying, making sure no one was listening, very quietly to him, "You know...I've got my wand with me-"

The guy turned his head to look at me, his chin still resting on his chin, "Feel like hexing someone?"he interrupted me lazily.

I smiled and said, "Not exactly what I was thinking...I know this charm...it allows the intended to hear music in his or her head...." I almost eagerly fingered the wand that was hidden in the magically enlarged pocket of my white sweater. I bit the inside of my cheek before I said, "Interested? I'm eager to hear some Black Magic, anyways."

He smiled at me, "No, that's alright, I'll live."

Just as I was about to lightly protest, the woman awoke, completely killing off my argument. With a polite smile, I went back to my own business and allowed him to do the same.

* * *

"Would you like to switch seats?" The guy looked up from his reading, his glasses momentarily catching the glare of the overhead light. I stared back at him, eyebrow raised.

"Pardon?" he asked, lightly closing his book.

"I said do you want to switch seats? You look rather uncomfortable with that lady taking up a lot of your leg room," I explained.

"Oh," he said, turning his eyes from me to stare at his legs, which were cramped up pretty well. He hesitated, looking over at my short legs relishing in the extra space the isle seat gave.

"It's no problem," I quickly put his doubts to ease, "Really, I've got short legs. Small space won't bother me."

He was silent for a moment, for some reason staring up at the lady that had pushed me aside when I got on the plane. "Alright," he finally said after a moment, turning his eyes back to me, a lopsided grin appearing on his lip, "Thanks."

I grinned in response, standing in unison with him, allowing him to sit down in my seat first so I could squeeze around him to my new seat. "I like window seats better, anyways," I informed him in a friendly tone.

"Take away the cramped space, and I do, too," he said, straightening his legs out comfortably.

With a coy smile created by me, a lopsided smirk shot by him, and a picturesque snore supplied courtesy the woman now in front of me, the second hour of the place ride ran past.


	4. The Third Hour

1My nerves at ease, I decided to take a short nap. I felt incredibly happy and proud of myself ever since I switched seats with the male version of Aphrodite now to my left. I must have been sleeping for nearly forty minutes when I felt I felt a poke on my shoulder. I don't remember exactly how I reacted upon my waking, but judging by the laughter I heard coming from the dark haired guy, it must have been something embarrassing. I was just being the little overachiever in that department that day...dammit.

Opening my eyes, I glanced sluggishly over at him, quick to spot another person standing next to him. A stewardess with blonde hair pulled back tighter than my old transfiguration professor, McGonagall; her eyes bugging out of her worn sockets. They were both looking at me expectantly; the guy with a hint of amusement, the stewardess with a bit of disgust.

"Hmm," I mumbled, my sleep having not entirely left me yet.

"Did you want something to drink?" the guy supplied before the stewardess could open her mouth once more to repeat her own words.

"Oh," I said softly, stifling a yawn, "Er, do you have some apple juice?"

The woman looked at her cart with inspecting eyes. After a few seconds, she wordlessly picked up an amber colored juice box and smiled as she handed it to me. "Enjoy, miss," she said politely, going on to the next row.

Blinking back blurriness, I looked down at my beverage for a few seconds. I wasn't too thirsty, so I put it aside for the moment. As my mouth opened to let out the stillborn yawn I had stifled seconds earlier, I raised a hand to cover it, only to pull back with the same disgust expressed on the stewardess' face. I quickly rubbed said hand against my shorts to wipe off the thick layer of drool that had dribbled down my chin sometime during my nap. Well, I think it was safe to say my femininity was taking violent beating that day.

I stole a glance to the man at my left, grateful to see he hadn't looked over during my moment of mortification. Either he hadn't noticed (not the most probable assuming his previous amused look to have originated from my spit to begin with) or he was simple too polite to openly acknowledge he _had_ noticed (if that were the case, he was sweeter than I thought).

With a deep sigh, I looked out of the window, mimicking the guy's actions hours earlier. My thoughts, though, surely weren't the same as the guy's. Curiosity got the better of me as I thought about my father, and why he had suddenly asked me to come for a visit. I hadn't seen him for a while, since he moved to the States when I was seventeen.

Why now, of all times? Right after I missed the concert of the century. Maybe it was God's way to take my mind off of my disappointment- for this plane ride was definitely doing a good job of that. Well, it didn't exactly take my mind off the missed concert, but it was really helping my disappointment lessen.

Maybe he'd met someone new- my father, that is. Maybe he found another woman and wanted me to meet her to study my judgement of her. Well, I knew right away that I'd hate the woman...if there was one, I mean. No woman was better than my mother, and I'm not just saying that to sound like the cliched version of the stubborn, misunderstood child of divorced parents. My mother was my idol; I admired everything about her. She was kind, lovely, and could never do enough for the goodness of mankind. My father, as well, was kind and charitable. Ergo my theory of the foundation of their divorce. They had too much in common...they were too benevolent to other people, but never to one another. They had been in constant competition with one another to see who was the best at loving mankind.

But that theory didn't take into account-

"So, who else missed it?" his voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned around, blinking, "Pardon?" I asked, not understanding.

"The concert," he said with a small smile, "you said, 'I carpooled with someone and _we_ missed it'... who's 'we'?"

A dawning look met my face, "Oh, right," I said brightly before regarding the 'we'. My eyes darkened at the mention of 'we'. I shrugged, "My roommate and her friends."

He raised an eyebrow, "Talk about all your friends with such enthusiasm?"

The statement was so absurd, I felt it my duty to burst out with a laugh, "Oh...oh, that's good. She's my roommate...that doesn't make her a friend; just not a foe. _Her_ friends, though...that's another matter entirely. They hold me in the highest level of contempt as I hold them."

One side of his mouth quirked up, "I never would have guess you as one to have enemies."

I blushed, rather liking the small amount of flirtatious insinuation in that statement of his. Flipping open my magazine again, I stared at a picture of Peter Pettigrew, Black Magic's pianist and second vocalist.

He leaned in closer to me, feeding my intoxication, though I tried to hide it. "Why'd you go with them if you didn't like them?" he asked curiously.

I waited a few seconds before answering, "Well...it was Abigail- my roommate- that had gotten the tickets. I could only assume she had bought one too many, or one of her other friends was unavailable at the time being, and that was why she invited me." I paused, "I don't know, really. I think I just wanted to see Black Magic in concert that much that I was willing to sacrifice a night to bad company."

He nodded, smiling sympathetically at me again, "And you didn't even get to go in the end," he finished for me. "Doesn't seem right," he mumbled, causing me to wonder if he was just lowly talking to me, or if he was just talking to himself.

"Not right at all," he repeated, leaning to the other side of his seat, his chin resting on his fist as he stared thoughtfully up at the rude lady once more in the front isle.

* * *

A/N: really short, I know...and last chapter, too...sorry about that. I just hope my daily updates have redeemed me of my evil ways blinks hopefully. Anyway, thanks for all the great reviews guys; they're all so sweet, and very helpful. Hope you liked this one. 


	5. The Fourth Hour

The dark-haired guy hadn't said anything for quite some time, resulting in my continuation of skimming my magazine. It was a lot easier to read in peace, my new window seat secluding the magazine from peering muggle eyes with the guy shielding view on my right, and the backs of seats covering view from the front and back. The day was drawing steadily to a close, the fact that the airplane was flying towards the night helping the transformation take place quicker than usual.

The breathtaking splashes of color stole my attention from the magazine. Sunsets always took my interest; my first original recollection of really witnessing a sunset had been with my father at age five and a half. I can still taste the chocolate ice cream cone I had been licking, some of the melting sweetness dripping down the tasty wafer and onto my hand. Father had secretly given the treat to me without my Mum's knowledge, for on a regular day, I never would have been able to eat such a dessert before dinner had commenced.

Letting the pages fan close, I stared out the window, my eyes bright with awe. The stars were rapidly beginning to appear. White diamonds in a dark pool. My ears were picking up the invisible sounds of my father's laughter, making this seem more and more like my first view of the sunset.

Tucking some of my auburn curls behind my ear, I absently began to lightly hum the latest tune by Black Magic to myself, purely inspired by a summer sunset similar to the one I was viewing. It was the pure truth; Enchanter's Editorial, the magazine I was reading, confirmed it. One night Sirius Black had been staring up at the sky, quill and parchment at hand, and was struck with creativity.

When I stare off into space, memorized, I usually tend to forget I may not be alone. I've let many unwanted secrets unleashed to untrustworthy ears back at Beauxbatons and Hogwarts simply because I forgot I wasn't alone. At that moment, I freed my voice to my neighbor distractedly, having let my humming louder than I had intended.

"Pretty voice," the black-haired guy broke through my thoughts once more- not that I minded. His appearance was just as attractive as a sunset in my mind.

I turned around, blushing again. "Sorry," I apologized in a murmur, not wanting to have disturbed him. I ducked my face as I bent down to pick up the unopened juice box the tight-lipped stewardess had given me.. Anything to keep me from facing the embarrassment.

He chuckled, "Don't be." I looked up at him; he indicated the magazine in my lap, "You could probably give Black Magic a run for their money."

I couldn't keep a small smile from creeping to my face, "Oh," I said, flustered at the compliment, not really sure if he was serious, or just teasing. "Oh, thanks," I said lamely.

"You're welcome," he answered confidently, still staring.

I bit my lip, looking up at him again. A tense silence overtook us...well, it was tense for me, I'm not sure about him.

I swallowed, hating the lack of talking more and more as the seconds past. Staring down at my apple juice, I fiddled with the plastic covered, flimsy straw attached to the back of it. I looked up suddenly, and asked, wanting nothing more than to break the silence, "Want my apple juice?"

He grinned lopsidedly and said, making to get up, "No, thanks. Not too fond of apples." He leaned back in his seat as he went on casually, "That tune...sounds familiar."

"It's one of Black Magic's," I explained, wondering if he had heard it before or not. "Whirling Serenade. I read in the magazine that Sirius Black had been inspired to write the song while watching a sunset." I went on, looking out the window for a moment again. When I turned back, the man had a look on his face of extreme doubt.

"Read that in the magazine, did you?" he said skeptically, a slight amused smirk on his face as he stared down to read the name of it.

I bit my lip and asked him curiously, "You don't think it's true?"

He looked back up at me, and only then did I realize how close he had gotten to read the title. I chewed on my lip, resisting the urge to lean in as well- and should that have happened, and should my lips happen to have met his own in the process...well, worse things have been known to happen.

He stared at me for a few seconds, allowing me access to view every aspect of his face. Gorgeous as ever. Suddenly, his grin showed up on his lips...I was beginning his smile was his key attribute. "I think magazines like to print anything they please."

I blushed, staring back down at the magazine. He must have caught on to my embarrassment, because he was quick to say, "Hey, maybe it is true....what do I know, right?" he joked lightly.

I smiled at him, wordlessly going back to reading my magazine. Something caught my eye. "Maybe you're right about them printing anything they please," I said to him suddenly. He turned from his book, blinking, obviously having forgotten the topic of our short conversation. A dawning look met his face as his features softened.

"What'd they say?" he asked.

"They said Remus' middle name is Jasper...I honestly remember his middle name to be Jerold from the Daily Prophet back in London," I said, skimming the article.

"Actually, I heard his middle name was Jacob," the black-haired man with a lopsided grin and a shrug.

I nodded, taking a deep breath, "I suppose you were right then."

He nodded, smiling again at me as he stood up and walked wordlessly off towards the front suddenly. I watched as he disappeared behind some curtains; he'd probably gone to the restroom.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I leaned back in my seat. I opened my juice, glumly taking a sip of it. It wasn't normal for me to act this flustered and so unorthodox. Why did I have to choose today of all days, around that man of all men, to act this way?

I crossed my legs, going back to staring out the window to the now darkened sky. Now, all that kept me company for the time being was the stars. I unconsciously went back to humming the tune I had been humming fifteen minutes prior. Through the reflection of the window not two minutes later, I saw a passing person stare my way, probably having heard my hums and had been looking for the source. The sandy haired guy, who I was guessing was probably about my neighbor's age, had stumbled and fell embarrassingly down to his knees right next to my isle. I stopped my humming and turned around, murmurs from some of the passengers reaching my ears as some offered him their hand to help him up. I smiled slightly at him as he softly laughed airily at his own mistake.

"I'm fine," I heard him say politely to an old woman, smiling tightly at her, obviously a little bit humiliated. The guy stood up, his hand resting on my neighbor's vacant armrest for support. He shot me one last, discreet glance (he had the most beautiful gray-toned eyes) before quickly going up to the front of the plane past the curtains the black-haired man had walked past a few minutes ago, probably on his way to the restroom as well.

I sighed and once more went back to my magazine, absolutely bored. Four more hours and I'd finally be in Chicago. I'd never been to the States before. The first fifteen years of my life were spent in France, resulting in my attendance at Beauxbatons until the middle of my fifth year. Soon after, once my parents' divorce was final, Mum moved my sister, herself, and I to Surrey in England, Dad going to the States for his career as a professional photographer.

Something in the magazine suddenly caught my eye. With a smile, I read the likes and dislikes of James Potter, lead bass player of Black Magic. Likes: music, dancing, sunsets the color green, and light comedy. Dislikes: face paint, combs, glasses, and, to personally quote James Potter, "arrogant, bullying toe-rags."

The sound of a soft sneeze made me pull my eyes up and look over. The guy had come back, after nearly ten minutes of departure. After it was clear he would be making to move to explain his absence, I smiled and looked back down at my magazine, only looking away from it again three minutes later by a small commotion from the rude lady sitting in the front isle. Apparently, the sandy-haired guy was somewhat of a klutz. He had just stepped on her foot in effort to sit back in his seat.

Despite myself, that fact brought a satisfied smile to my face; I looked back down at the article, not seeing a matching satisfied smirk coming from my neighbor as he continued to stare up at the front, resting his arms behind his head casually.


	6. The Fifth Hour

"No, no, like this. Roll them completely around, and then blink."

As commanded, I rolled my ridiculously lime green eyes and snapped my lids down, a smile never leaving my face. A resounding, albeit quiet, pop echoed through my ears, and my smile widened.

"There you go!" came the whispered, jubilant explanation from my neighbor. His voice opened my eyes, allowing them to be entranced in my new creation: a nice, long, pink pair of fuzzy, bunny ears atop Mrs. Snores-a-lot's head.

My mouth opened, ready to let out a loud holler of laughter. Before I could, the black-haired man shot to lean over to me, his hand quickly covering my mouth. His shoulders shaking with silent laughter, his eyes dancing around happily as he brought his index finger up to his lips, a clear signal for me to keep quiet. And if his silent action didn't work, he even lightly 'shh'd me through a grin.

"Nice job," he complimented, "It took Pe- Paul...my friend Paul, it took him nearly fifteen tries before he mastered that spell."

I looked over at the still-sleeping woman and half-smiled, "How did you learn about that spell?" I asked softly.

"Ah," he adjusted himself in his seat, half laughing sheepishly, "Well, about six years ago at my old school, my best friend came up with it during a Transfiguration class. Transformed old McGonagall's ears into...well, those," he pointed to the woman's ears.

My mouth dropped, "McGonagall? You went to Hogwarts?" I asked in astonishment.

"Yeah," the guy replied with a lopsided grin.

"Me, too," I exclaimed.

"Seriously?" he asked, adjusting himself around in his seat once more to face me better, "I think I would have remembered you...what house were you in?"

I smiled, loving his subtle flirtations, "I was in Gryffindor."

"So was I," he murmured thoughtfully, "I can't believe I don't remember you..." he suddenly looked sheepish and then said, "I don't actually think I know your name."

"Oh," I exclaimed, knowing he was right, "It's Lily, Lily Evans."

He smiled once more. The way he was gazing into my eyes made my breath catch in my throat momentarily. After a few seconds, he said softly, "Pleasure to meet you, Lily Evans. I'm Jim Caulder." He took my hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing it in a gentleman-like fashion. I swore my heart stopped at that moment.

"Pleasure," I whispered, utterly entranced. We simply stared at one another for I don't know how long. Finally, though, Jim smiled again and leaned back in his seat once more. "So, you were a Gryffindor...I still can't believe I don't remember you."

"Well, I had transferred over to Hogwarts in my fifth year. I went to Beauxbatons before that," I said, "You're probably...what a few years older than me?" I inquired.

"I'm twenty-two," he supplied.

I smiled, "Nineteen, so three years age difference. Yes, you must have just graduated the year before, I suppose."

With an unreadable expression on his face, he said softly, "That's a shame."

Again, we found our eyes interlocked with each other. To my surprise and excitement, Jim seemed to be leaning in closer to me. Needless to say, I couldn't hold back an eager look. The closer he seemed to get, the slower time seemed to go. I could almost feel his lips on my own now; his lips that were quirked up into a small smile. Closer and clos-

"Attention passengers. Due to the sudden fog and heavy downpour, this flight will be forced to relocate in New York at John F Kennedy airport until further notice."

I could have screamed in frustration. As if the already long ride hadn't been enough, now I had to wait for Merlin knows how long in an airport in New York...and the unfortunate announcement had also prevented the seemingly inevitable kiss between Jim and I. Looking over at him, he was now back to leaning in his own seat, a disappointed look playing around his face.

As I opened my mouth to say something, he beat me to it. "Be right back," he murmured to me distractedly, eyeing the front row as he stood up and began walking up to the front. I curiously watched him walk up, almost colliding with the clumsy, sandy-haired man that had stood up almost simultaneously with Jim. Jim helped the other guy steady himself, voicing a loud apology as he eyed the rest of the crowd, looking a little sheepish.

I rested my chin in my hand, staring at him wistfully as both of the guys walked in the same direction up to the front and behind the curtain out of view. Thinking nothing of it, I sighed glumly as I flipped through the rapidly tiring magazine.

After a few moments, Jim came back and took his seat once more.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts at this time; we are preparing to land," came the voice of the captain from the loudspeaker.

I did as ordered and stared out of the window into the stormy weather. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I had watched the beautiful sunset.

"You're not nervous, are you?" Jim's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned around and looked at him, "Pardon?"

"Almost any time this happens, someone I sit next to is just trembling with nerves," Jim said.

"Oh, no, I'm not nervous." I shot him a small smile. Fear of flying had never hit me too much. It scared my mother more than Death itself, though. "Just a little disappointed," I went on, "I was just looking forward to getting to Chicago and take a nice long nap, just lounge around with my father."

"Ah," Jim nodded, "going to the States to see your father."

"Yeah," I confirmed, "So, what about you? Going to Chicago for a vacation? Or some big event?"

"Something like that," Jim answered vaguely.

Before I could inquire more about his answer, the plane had stopped. I really had no idea what I was going to do. My account in Diagon Alley was somewhat hefty- well, for a nineteen year old's salary, it wasn't too bad- but considering muggle money, money I hadn't started saving until after I had graduated, I wasn't too well off.

After I was off the plane, and gotten over a tiny panic attack I had from the claustrophobia resulted from the large bustle and crowd, I grabbed my two suitcases, my duffle bag over my shoulder. Biting my lip, I stared around in wonderment. Maybe I could have my father wire some money to me for a motel. This just wasn't something I had planned on happening.

Forcing myself into action, a tab bit clumsier than I would have been had I not been carrying all those bags, I dodged through the crowds to a group of payphones. It seems quite a few people had the same plan in mind about calling their family. I had waited nearly twenty minutes, each moment presenting more and more exhaustion into my bones. Finally, a mother holding on to her daughter's hand tightly hung up one of the phones and started off to an exit. I seized my chance before a very eager and impatient man behind me could grab for the vacant phone.

Resisting the urge to stick my tongue out in childish victory at the man, I put in a few coins and dialed the number to my father's flat...er, home. Twirling the cord of the phone around my finger anxiously, I bit my lip harder and harder with each passing, and unanswered, ring.

"C'mon, dad," I whispered to myself, almost not hearing my quiet voice with the loud buzz of the people around me. "Pick up, please," I almost begged into the mouthpiece.

Ten more rings passed before I dejectedly gave up and hung the phone back up. The second I took one step away from the phone, suitcases back in hand, an old lady mimicked my earlier action and seized the phone to call her own relatives.

I was at a complete loss. Who did I know in New York? Well, Abigail's cousin lived in New York City...but she hated me more than Marianna.

My next order of business was to go up to the ticket counter. Now for that, I had to wait nearly thirty minutes. Thoroughly agitated, I eagerly walked up to a prim and proper-looking woman and dropped my suitcases indifferently to the ground as I leaned my arms on the counter and slumped down as though I had just run a two mile race and won.

"When's our flight taking off?" I asked, almost begged actually.

She stared at me for a moment before inquiring knowingly, "Are you on the TZ 219 fight to Ch-,"

"Flight to Chicago, Illinois, yes," I finished for her in exasperation, too tired and stressed to be patient.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but that flight won't be starting again until the storm has passed...statistics believe the storm won't leave us for a good few days," she replied, sympathetically eyeing my tattered appearance.

I sighed, mumbling a 'thank-you', picking up my suitcases. Walking off, I found a more secluded spot of the large airport and took an empty seat, staring out at the illuminated-from-lightning scene from the window.

Moving my suitcases and duffle bag slightly under my chair and the chair to my right, protectively placing my legs in front of them, I searched my pockets for any spare muggle money. I pulled out a total of 13 dollars and 67 cents. Oh boy, I could buy a sandwich at the airport food stand for that price. Putting my money back into my pockets glumly, my fingers grazed over the pit of my wand.

For a moment, I seriously considered just apparating to Chicago. But, I couldn't bring myself to it. I just couldn't stand the thought of it. I'd rather spend six months cooped up in this airport than face six seconds of having knowledge of the uncertainty of whether or not all my body parts would end up in the same place.

With a deep frown, I stared out the window again and sighed audibly. Like I had been doing quite a bit today, I brought out my magazine once more. I had about twenty more pages to read from it, five of those twenty happening to have contained, who else, Black Magic. Within a few minutes, I felt a presence beside me. I turned around and found myself staring into deep blue eyes. He was almost as handsome as my ex-neighbor with his elegant brown hair and a boyish grin. For some reason, he was staring curiously at me. I returned his stare and smiled slightly, a little uncomfortable.

"Hello," I said finally, nervously, seeing as how he didn't seem to be in a hurry to say anything.

His smile widened for some reason. Whenever I think about what happened next, to this day, my heart still beats at incredible speed, adrenaline pumping through my veins with vigor. Without moving his eyes from my gaze, his right hand shot out, inviting me to shake it.

He finally spoke, calm and leisurely. "Sirius Black."

* * *

A/N- Hey all. Well, here's a little Christmas treat for you all, hope you enjoyed it. Merry Christmas and God Bless 


	7. The Sixth Hour

The hand that had been invited to shake his laid immobile in my lap as I just stared. The guy's grin didn't waver, though, at my obvious lack of obligement. Outgoingly, he reached out and shook my hand anyway, firmly. He looked completely amused as my eyes glued themselves onto his face, my mouth hanging loosely down to almost touch the bottom of my chin to my chest.

Finally, I snapped myself out of my trance- well, the guy snapped me out of my trance by literally snapping his muggle gum he was chewing. Blinking to wet my dry eyes, I shook my head slightly.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked me, his lips quirked up on one side in a half smile.

"That's..." I croaked out hoarsely before clearing my throat. Trying again, I finally got out, "That's a really famous name."

Clearly, that wasn't the reaction he had expected, for Sirius just laughed and said, "Yeah, I'd imagine it is."

"That's an amazing coincidence," I went on, my eyes wide in awe. "Sirius Black, the singer, must be around the same age as you, too... the same name _and_ age....wow!"

He raised an eyebrow and said, "Yeah, I've got it down to pretty much the same day and time...down to the last split-second." He quirked his head slightly to the left and said again, indulging more, "I'm Sirius Black, of Black Magic."

My mouth dropped again, my cheeks burning. "No bloody way!"

He smirked with amusement and brought something out of his pocket. Showing me the card he was holding, I looked at it. His identification card...Sirius Black....born May 4th (Sirius Black, of Black Magic's birthday). Eyes...his eyes were blue!

"Your eyes are blue!" I exclaimed, turning in my seat to get a better look at the card. "Sirius Black's eyes are blue!"

Sirius' eyes widened as he smashed his hand against my mouth, shushing me. Luckily, no one had heard me outburst, seeing as how I had picked a relatively empty waiting place. Once I was quiet, but still staring intently at the card, he brought his hand away.

"So," he said when it was clear I wasn't going to say anything with prompt.

"Can I have this?" I blurted out, slowly bringing my hand to graze me fingers against the I.D.

"What?" he asked, slightly comical.

"Hey, er...Sam. Sam, we'd better get going."

I looked up along with Sirius to see the same clumsy, sandy-haired guy that had stumbled in the isle next to my seat. With my fingers still frozen on the I.D. card, I gazed in confusion.

"Sa-," I started, but Sirius cut me off.

"It's alright," he said to the guy in front of us, "I just told her who I was."

The guy sputtered and lost his composure for a moment. His beautiful-colored eyes practically fell from their sockets as he stared at Sirius in an obviously mixture of apprehension and indignation. My hand slowly retreated back to my lap as I inspected the sandy-haired guy. His hands had fallen limply down to his side, his hands in fists. He was obviously trying to regain his misplaced composure.

Sirius Black had an unbelievably gorgeous smile on his face. He was completely unfazed by the mortified guy's reaction.

"You...you gave away your identity are you mad?" said the guy in front of me, meshing his words together so fast they were almost impossible to interpret. Sirius just leaned back in the seat, calm and completely cool. My heart skipped a beat.

Before the famous singer could carelessly defend himself, I opened my mouth. "Oh, oh I won't tell anyone, I _swear_," the promise was completely giddy and filled with sincerity. The sandy-haired guy looked over at me for the first time since Sirius had made his confession.

I let out an excited, overjoyed giggle, standing up, clutching the rapidly wrinkling magazine in my arms over my chest. "Are you one of the band members? No, no...don't tell me. Let me guess," I said quickly, and very quietly. I had enough sense not to shout all this out, lest more of their fans heard the conversation and stole their attention away from me. "You're Peter Pettigrew, aren't you?"

For a moment, the guy's face took on a scandalized expression. I decided to take that as a 'no'. "James?" I inquired further, moving a step closer. Quickly, I thought better of it and took the same step back, knowing he probably wouldn't appreciate someone who could easily appear like a stalker. "Remus?"

"No," he exclaimed, becoming flustered again. Sirius, still lounging lazily in the seat, just smiled coolly, very amused. "No, I'm one of Sirius' bodyguards."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Bodyguard?" Weren't bodyguards suppose to be...well, not clumsy? "Aren't you the guy that...well, you're not exactly... graceful," I finally managed out, attempting not to sound rude.

"Guards don't have to be graceful. Only strong," he quickly said. "And..." He took on a look of dawning, "that little stumbled by your seat...it was just one of my undercover attributes."

"That's not what I would call an 'attribute', Re-,"

"Remus, have you seen James anywhere?" another guy cut Sirius off, coming up with his luggage.

My eyes widened more than _Remus'_ eyes had a few moments prior. "So, you _are_ Remus Lupin!" I said, quickly slamming a hand over my mouth at the same exact time all three men made a move forward to cover my mouth. Going back to their original position, each guy held a different look. Sirius, the same calm and amused look. Remus, a mortified look. And the newcomer, apprehensive and nervous. Perhaps he hadn't seen me standing there...a fan with open ears and an almost obsession with their band.

"Yes, yes, alright, I am Remus Lupin," he said in a hushed whisper, looking around frantically in fear of anyone having heard that short exchange.

"Keep your voice down, Lily," Sirius said lazily. I looked back down at him. 'Lily'...Sirius Black had just spoken my name.

"Wha..." I said breathlessly, looking at the three, my face paling as the full effect of the occurrences finally overtook me. I walked over to the newest member of our conversation, keeping an acceptable distance away after he squeaked a little and held onto his luggage ever-so-slightly tighter. "Are you James Potter or Peter Pettigrew, then?" I asked, biting my lip excitedly.

"Peter Pettigrew," he responded much easier than Remus had, looking over at his two fellow band members for reassurance. Remus just shrugged, still glaring over at Sirius, who looked over at Peter and grinned while nodding.

"You bloody rock," I complimented, running a hand through my hair. I turned and looked back at Sirius and Remus and continued, "You all bloody rock."

Remus nodded and took a seat nearer the large window framing the plane we had most likely all been on only an hour ago. The gray clouds blanketed us all, allowing for no one shadow to stand out against the other- for everything around the horizon was one large shadow.

"Why did you introduce yourself?" I blurted out, walking back to my seat next to Sirius. I stared at him as though he were a Greek god, awaiting him to command me to do something. I couldn't believe I was here...talking to Black Magic minus one.

"That's just something you may have to wait your pretty little head to know, love," Sirius answered, taking his index finger and lightly pushing the tip of my nose teasingly.

Remus had rolled his eyes and shook his head. He muttered something I had to strain my ears to hear. "Bloody flirt."

"Do either of you know where Prongs is?" Peter said, becoming impatient. He tiredly dropped his luggage to the floor. "And where's the Minister with our ride?"

"No, we don't know where _James_ is, Peter," Remus said grumpily and pointedly. "Maybe _James_ is waiting near the entrance for the limo."

Peter looked sheepish for a moment and took a chair a few seats away from Sirius and I. I leaned forward a little to stare at Black Magic's pianist, who sighed and leaned his head in his hands. He was obviously as annoyed with the delay as the rest of us were.

I leaned back again and looked over at Remus for a moment, taking in every single frazzled feature. He seemed fidgety...well, I guess that was understandable. I'd imagine the four of the group don't usually get a lot of admirers talking to them- no less, having their identities revealed to, in their perspective, a deeply enthused teenage girl.

Turning back to Sirius, finding his eyes had never left me since I had first inspected them, I blushed. His expression wasn't one of lust, by any means, or even enticement. He stared at me as though I had was a priceless painting covered protectively by double-panned glass. He almost seen bemused.

"You're all very handsome...those enchantments don't do you justice," I said boldly, without shame at given such compliments. Honestly, how often does a situation like this happen to someone average like me? I couldn't have let my chance just go by as discreet I had been back at Hogwarts.

Remus actually turned from staring out the window to look at me. A faint smile appeared on his face. "Thanks," he said amusedly.

I grinned and pulled my legs up so my chin rested comfortably on my knees. Remus turned his body around in his seat so now he was facing the rest of us in the empty area. He leaned forward to look past me and towards Sirius. "Does James know you did this, Sirius? I don't think he'd be happy about it."

Sirius shrugged, and slowly took the magazine out of my grasp. I stared wordlessly as Sirius began to flip through it, gazing most eagerly at the article of the group.

Sirius' lack of attention had slightly annoyed Remus, for a few moments after the singer had begun to read it, Remus said a little more demandingly, "Sirius?"

The little snap of the page turning sounded in my ears as Sirius lightly laughed and finally answered, "No, Remus, James doesn't know. He won't care, I'm sure."

Remus snorted and crossed his arms glumly. "He's always going this," muttered Remus to me. I looked over, my eyes sparkling with excitement. It was like I was being allowed entrance into the Garden of Eden once more after years and years of banishment.

"Is he really?" asked I, eager to continue this conversation. My grandchildren would most definitely be hearing some interesting tales down the line. Many tales that had happened in the short time-span of one day.

"Yeah," Remus mumbled, rolling his eyes, "Ever since Hogwarts, he's been this treacherous, little-,"

"You went to Hogwarts?!" I exclaimed, quickly lowering my voice at the flustered motions the three made to quiet me. "Sorry," I whispered apologetically. I gave them a sheepish smile. With both my hands on my cheeks to hide my blush, I said much quieter, "I went to Hogwarts, too."

For some reason, Remus didn't appear even remotely shocked at that. "I figured as much," he said with a grin. And at that moment, I actually got to hear him laugh. I stared at him questioningly.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked, wondering if my wand had somehow come out of its hiding place to come into sight.

"Kind of," he said, indicating Sirius' hands, "the magazine is magical, after all."

"Oh, right," I said, turning around slightly to look at it. Facing Remus once more, I said with a grin, "It may sound incredibly sad, but I think I've read just about every single piece of writing containing your band."

"So, you really are a big fan," Remus said with a lopsided grin.

"I really am," I answered with a nod.

"That's wicked," he replied sincerely, "I mean, it's nice to talk to a fan."

"I thought fans were the reason you all disguise yourselves," I said, folding my legs under my body to sit a little more comfortably.

"Oh, yeah. That's right," Remus agreed, "But, from time to time, it's just nice to talk to one face to face...you're actually the first one we've all talked to without our disguises and enchantments- well, if you don't count all of our parents and James' little sister."

"You know, you have really pretty eyes," I said randomly. At his confused expression, I quickly said, "I'm sorry for sounding all loony...it's just...you're Black Magic, you know. I may never again get to talk to you. I always wanted to know what color all of your eyes were. In fact, I was just telling my neighbor on the plane the same thing. Ironic, isn't it? Not five hours ago I thought I'd never get a chance to know what color your eyes were."

"Lily?" a familiar voice sounded from behind.

I turned happily. Nothing could spoil my good mood at that moment. In fact, once I turned around, my happiness doubled.

"Hi, Jim," I greeted with a wave.

* * *

AN: now that wasn't too long of a wait, was it? I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Perhaps you could let me know in a nice, long review, eh? 


	8. The Seventh Hour

Black suede shoes implanted firmly on the worn, tattered airport carpet below him, Jim stared at me, then at the three surrounding me. He looked at a loss for words; like I had been moments ago when Sirius had introduced himself. With numerous straps of his duffle bags hooked around either of his shoulders, Jim finally moved his mouth and said after clearing his throat slightly. "Hi, Lily. . ." he broke off, one side of his lips quirked up in a bemused half-smile. His eyes discreetly roamed over the source of my happiness at that moment.

Peter got up and opened his mouth, "Hey J-," he broke off, starting to croak and squeak. I turned away from Jim for a moment to watch Peter cough into his hands, attempting to regain his voice. Because of my lack of attention for those few seconds, I had completely missed Remus' slightly smoking wand being hidden back in his pocket.

I rushed over to Jim, excitement making my eyes shine. I grabbed both his forearms with my hands and turned him so his back was facing the others and my eyes could just barely see over his shoulders to keep an eye on Black Magic.

"Jim," I breathed out, hoping Remus, Sirius, and Peter didn't mind that I was going to spill their secret to one other person, "Jim, it's them. It's really them. They're Black Magic!" I screamed through a whisper.

Jim gave a start, his eyes wide as he stared back at them with an incredulous look on his face. "Yes," I croaked out, "It's _them_."

"Yeah," Jim mumbled, going back to looking at me. He went on with the start of a question, "They told you-,"

"Jim," Remus said, standing up. Jim and I both turned around. Remus opened his mouth to go on, but I had cut him off before he could.

"You know Jim?" I asked, astonished, as I walked over to Remus. I blinked, my once numb brain actually working for once that day. Slowly, I stood, looking between the four in an effort to make sense of this. Jim- James Potter. James Potter- Jim. Jim-James. "Are you. . .James Potter, Jim?" I asked, turning my attention back to the black-haired man.

"No," he replied with ease, walking closer to the rest of us. Sirius still lounged in the uncomfortably hard chair, watching the scene unfold with interest. Peter was still coughing, though he was apparently regaining his voice more and more, and his ears were obviously tuned in to our conversation, judging by the look he was giving Jim.

"No, I'm Jim Tans."

"How do you know them, then?" I suspiciously asked.

"I'm one of the band's disguise artists," Jim replied, looking to the rest.

"Well, where's James?" I asked, still skeptic. I had started to run my hands through my hair, a sure sign of my rapidly bubbling excitement.

"He's. . ." Remus said, looking around the airport, "There he is." Sirius, Peter, and Jim all turned quickly to see where Remus had indicated. A guy with hair brighter and more golden than the hidden sun, eyes as blue as the covered blue sky, and a somewhat lanky body in comparison to the lean physiques the rest of the band had was making his way over to us. He had more bags than Jim had carried, but it seemed the extra weight hadn't succeeded in tiring him out. An easy grin was on his face as he tossed his head up to acknowledge the rest of them.

"Afternoon, lads," he greeted, letting some of the bags drop to the floor, "I've just gotten off the er. . .the telephone, I believe, with the Minister. A car should be here within the next fifteen minutes to take us to an appropriate floo departure." It was then that he finally realized I was there. And, the surprise of my presence was completely evident by the way his eyes bugged out of his head and he shot an uneasy glace at Sirius.

"It's alright, mate," Sirius said, waving his hand to toss the matter aside, "She's a witch."

James nodded, looking relieved. He turned back to me, flashing a smile. It didn't take Remus two seconds to jump in to action.

"Lily, this is James Potter," he introduced.

James looked back at Remus only for a moment before he turned back around and held out his hand to me politely, "James Potter, of Black Magic, miss. . ."

"Evans," I quickly supplied, doing him the same courtesy I was unable to show Sirius a while ago by taking James' hand and shaking it, "Lily Evans." Behind the two of us, Sirius, Jim, and Peter were talking in hushed whispers while Remus was just watching our conversation go by.

"Ah," he nodded his head, "A lovely name for a lovely lady."

I bit the inside of my cheek, which on the outside happened to be flushed a scalding shade of red. "Thank you," I said, suppressing a giggle, "I really love your music."

"Oh, thanks," he replied, "Yes, I'm rather fond of it, too. Takes a lot of work to come up with this type of music." He opened his mouth to go on, but probably realized it sounded like he was bragging, so he closed it.

"I would imagine," I nodded, smiling widely at him.

"Though, this happens to be the first time a fan has talked to us," James said, almost mimicking Remus' earlier words precisely, "It's. . .nice to be appreciated by such a beautiful woman."

My blush intensified, and just as I had opened my mouth to reply, Jim came over and intervened, "James, I think we should start taking the luggage out to the front. . .do you know where Frank or Gillian are with your equipment?"

"Oh hello. . .Jim?" James turned, something like curiosity in his eyes. I opened my mouth to inquire about the questioning tone. Quickly, James went on before I could, "I- I didn't think you were coming with us to this one, Jim." He shook the hazel-eyed god's hand, through his own blonde hair back out of his eyes.

"Yes," Jim replied, smiling, "Dillon backed out at the last minute- said something about accidently using a permanent make-up charm on his wife. Had to take her in to St. Mungo's."

"That makes sense seeing as how he won't just part with a few galleons to buy a faux modeling statue to experiment with new face decor," James said, smirking.

"Lily," Sirius broke in, now standing with Peter. I turned away from Jim and James' conversation, exchanging glances with Remus in the process. I smiled brightly at Sirius as he went on, "Do you have a place to stay until this dreadful plane is up and running?"

I missed the identical looks of fury that showed on both Jim and Remus' face; it was probably evident to Sirius that they knew what was to be coming out of his mouth next.

"No," I said downheartedly, leaning down to pick up my bags. Jim walked forward and helped me put the last duffle bag around my shoulder. I smiled and said softly to him, "Thanks," before turning back to Sirius, "No, I tried calling my father so he could wire some muggle money to me, but I think he's at his work." I rolled my eyes, adjusting the straps of some of the bags, "I don't know what his work number is, either."

"Well, since I've ("_You've_?" Remus snorted and rolled his eyes.) already made the arrangements, you may as well stay in the rented flat the Minister purchased for us," Sirius said easily as though he were offering one pound to me instead of a place to sleep.

"Y... you mean, stay at your flat?" I said incredulously, my heart racing.

"Sure," Peter said with a grin, "We've got plenty of room, I'm sure."

"Sirius could I speak to you for a moment?" James said abruptly, shooting him a look. He steered Sirius away from the rest of us, Remus close behind. Peter and Jim pretended to be doing something else so as not to focus on eavesdropping, but I wasn't as discreet about my curiosity.

All I could hear was murmurs, but the facial expressions could tell the story. Remus' hands were flailing about, James a little calmer, while Sirius just glanced around the area, shooting winks at a few girls flirtatiously. Sirius then looked to Remus again, spoke a few words to James that seemed to calm his and Remus' indignance slightly, and walked back to us.

"Need help with your bags, Lily?" he asked promptly upon approaching us.

I stared hesitantly at the five, going over each of their expressions, from Sirius' easy grin, to Remus' dubious stare, to Jim's subtle anxiety. Peter and James both shared shrugs when I looked to them. Going back to Sirius, I cleared my throat and licked my lips to prepare for my voice. "Are you sure?" I asked doubtfully. "I mean, I wouldn't want to impose on you all-,"

"Nonsense, we never get to help out a pretty, young damsel in distress," Sirius interrupted.

"I'm not a damsel in distress," I was quick to object.

"You're a damsel, and your obviously in distress," Peter pointed out.

"I'm not in distress," I maintained.

Jim quirked an eyebrow and did a sort of half-shrug of his shoulder while asking lightly and somewhat sheepishly, "Where do you see yourself five hours from now when we're still not on that plane, Lily?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but found there was nothing I could think to say. Closing it, I pressed my lips together as my face went through an variable amount of changes in expression. Bobbing my head about, I raised my eyebrows. Finally, I relented and said:

"Alright, in five hours, I think I'd be in distress." Five identical, amused, smirks flied about. Sirius moved forward and guided me along with my arm. We passed by many angry passengers, each dealing with their stress in their own, unique, way. One child had taken to kicking his reading father's leg in the midst of his mother's nagging for him to just take a nap. One woman was taking this spare time to crack her knuckles and glare over at another man I could only assume to be her husband. And, one man was just taking his stress out on everyone by the sound of his shouting and cursing at any passerby.

"Let's just take this route," Sirius said slowly, guiding me and the rest of the band- all of which, save Sirius, was carrying a bundle of luggage- away from the ranting man.

Next, we passed by some nuns carrying rosaries and in the middle of a prayer. After, some security guards rushed by, hopefully to calm the worked up man. And, finally, a few minutes later, we reached the entrance.

"Now," Sirius said, stopping just short of the rain once we walked outside, "just to get these petty little necessities out of the way, you're not an ax murderer planning on killing us all in our sleep, are you?"

I distinctly heard a snort come from both Peter and James and even caught sight of Remus hiding a smirk. Jim, though, wasn't so discreet as he walked to my side and waited for my answer with an amused smile.

"I don't know," I murmured in feigned thoughtfulness, "I don't know about an _ax_ murderer, but I do like to hex unaware men while they sleep." I grinned and went on, "So, I can't believe I haven't heard about you all when I went to Hogwarts."

Before Sirius or any of them had a chance to indulge, a shiny, fancy car pulled up. "Come," Jim said to me with a smile, taking my bags and putting them in the most likely magically enlarged trunk. I hopped in to the car, Jim right after.

"Yeah," Sirius said, "We'll talk about this all at the flat." The chauffeur came up and helped the guys with their bags and soon the trunk had closed with a sharp click. Sirius climbed in to the car, followed by Peter, then James, and finally Remus, who muttered to Sirius:

"Yeah, we'll see about that, Sirius."

The resolute smile didn't waver from Sirius' face, though. I turned to my right and exchanged amused looks with Jim.

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A/N: Hope you all liked this chapter. Sorry for the slight delay, but I had to send in my laptop to get something fixed, so I had to wait a few days. Anyway, tell me if you liked, disliked (though be nice about it, please), or have any nice, _long _reviews. And, now, I'll respond to some of my reviewers: 

potterchick1: Just to clear it up, any time Black Magic goes out in public, they're wearing face paint, making their identities really almost impossible to decifer. And, I _loved_ the poem. It realky made my day, I swear. Thanks for the really long review; those are the best.

SweetSouthernGal: Aw, thanks! That's really sweet, hun.

Reines im Herzen: No worries, I try not to leave questions up in the air. So, all confusion and everything like why he told her will be answered in later chapters. Thanks for leaving a long review, too. They're so interesting to read!

Pristine: I'm trying my best to keep this from being too cliched and immature. Hopefully, it's working. Thanks for reviewing, I'm so glad you like it!

: :bluurg: :- Yay! You caught that part! Don't worry, it'll be explained later on. Thanks for reviewing, too.


	9. The Eighth Hour

A/N: Hey everyone. . .welcome me back? Anyone? Heh. No hard feelings, right? I know you all must be beyong pissed at my annoying behavior. But, I bestow upon you all, a peace offering. A piece of my not-so-creative nature. An update. Enjoy

* * *

"We won't be apparating, will we?" I asked, warily tugging at the edges of my jacket. I glanced at each of my temporary companions, no doubt revealing to each one my absolute mortification of said subject at hand. The wild expression on my face screamed terror; I could actually feel the blood from my cheeks fleeting at the mere reference of the widely popular wizarding way of traveling. A few select– might I add insane?– individuals actually enjoyed that dangerous feat. As if they could be in complete control of themselves when giving their bodies to their imperfect powers. There was nothing fun about it. Horrifying. Terribly, terribly, absolute horri–

"Is it a problem if we are?" Sirius asked me, his right eyebrow raised in shielded amusement. By the way I was clutching the arm of the closest person near me– Peter, that is– any person with half a brain could tell that it most definitely _was_ a problem. Instead of answering, I allowed a small cough/squeak from my mouth.

We were still driving along in the dimmed limousine. I think I had made not only my fear of apparating completely obvious, but my absolute awe of riding in such a high-class vehicle stand out painfully clear. Did I care? No, not really, I was riding in a _limo_ with _Black Magic_. If I bring myself nothing but shame during this trip in front of the group, I can still live my life having the option of walking up to random women off the street and ask them if _they_ had ever had such an adventure. Oh yes, Black Magic– despite all they had done for me so far– had also given me bragging ammo against all other femme fatale. And, femme fatale I may not be, in my mind at that moment, perhaps I could equal their power.

Blinking, I brought myself back to reality. The reality of the sane.

"No, Lily, we're not apparating," Jim answered kindly, his face gentle as he stared out the window. Rolling hills tumbled about, the vehicle bringing us farther away from the airport into a country side, picturesque scene. For one fleeting moment as I fell mercy to the warmth my stomach stewed while watching Jim from the corner of my eye, an image of said male companion and myself sharing a picnic beside a country rode flashed across my mind. Abruptly, I changed tracks of thought before I lost myself completely in my unashamed dream. For now, I was living a different one.

"That's a relief," I mumbled lamely, having said nothing for the past few minutes after Jim answered my question. The muggle automobile was void of conversation for quite some time after that. Witnessing the unpleased glares Remus kept throwing in Sirius' direction– the latter stubbornly and serenely ignoring them– I assumed the air between the band was a little more than tense. Probably my fault. . .oh well.

The trip lasted for nearly twenty more minutes– a duration from which Peter attempted some polite conversation, James fiddled with some contraption and stole odd glances my way; Sirius would stare at me until I met his gaze, then quickly look away with a small smirk; Jim, too, mimicked Sirius' actions, the only difference being his reddened cheeks and his sheepish smile; Remus. . .well, Remus huffed in a corner with his arms crossed. I think he was still a little wary of me. Perhaps I shouldn't have joked about hexing men in their sleep. . .

"We're here, sirs and miss," the driver spoke with a booming voice from his place up front. Instantly, Sirius tore his door open and hopped out, followed closely by Peter and Jim. I was rather surprised with Jim had turned around and held his hand out to me. With a slight smile, I took it and was gently hauled to my feet. I could have kicked myself for my flushed face afterwards.

Forcing my thoughts once more away from the country-picnic scene with just Jim and yours truly, I turned my attention to the small, beat-up shack of a building we had stopped in front of. I tried but failed to hold back my lip from curling, but unfortunately, the possibility of having to stay in this small hut for Lord knows how long was almost unbearable. I think a slumber party with Marianna, Jolene, and Abigail might actually surpass a night in this.

James and Peter walked forward, the former carrying nearly ten bags of luggage with him. Jim and Remus followed them, whispering fervently. I hesitantly stepped forward, swinging the straps of my bags around my torso. My slow pace was suddenly quickened as an arm slipped around my waist. With a surprised gasp I looked over and saw the happy face of Sirius smiling down at me, sweeping me up to the building, "Snap snap, Lily," his voice sung, pleased, as he opened the door the four others had walked through.

"We're not really staying here, are we?" I asked apprehensively, swallowing nervously as I eyed a spider to my right lazily drop down from it's web. One of the straps of my bags began slipping. Quickly, before the bag fell and took me down with it, I seized the black leather sash and pulled it back up, still glancing at Sirius curiously.

Sirius laughed as though my plausible question was insane. Letting go of my waist, he joined his mates on the other side of the small, darkened room.

"Definitely not," Remus answered for him, searching for something intently.

I unconsciously let go of the breath I had been holding in relief. My eyes went back to the spider. . .that was no where to be seen. Blinking, my brows furrowed as I searched silently for the tiny bug. With a scream, I found it creeping along my shoulder. Spiders. I _hate_ spiders, especially when they're _touching_ me.

"Ahhh, get it off, get it off!" I screeched to no one as I myself answered my own orders, sweeping my hand frantically over my shoulder, letting the spider drop to a nearby table and scamper off. My outburst drew the attention from the rest of the guys, Jim in particular hopping to action and rushing over to me.

"What? What's wrong?" he exclaimed, reaching out as though to set his hand on my forearm, but quickly drawing back. I took no notice, nor heed to his act of hesitation.

"A _spider_," I let out in a squeaky whisper, my face pale as snow. "There. . .a spider. . .on my shoulder." My index finger rushed up to point at my shoulder, annunciating my words. The various looks of slight disbelief mirrored on each of the male faces in the room brought me to realize just how overbearingly feminine I was being. With a slight cough, my eyes fled to the ground before looking back up sheepishly at Jim. "I'm fine," I mumbled, grinning slightly, pulling the strap of my bag up again as it began to slip.

With an eyebrow raised, Jim stared once more at me before turning back around back to the guys.

"Where is it, Ji- James?" Remus went back to searching.

James stepped forward and walked up to the mantle in the room. Letting his finger lazily trail along the wood, pulling the inch high dust with it, he said in a murmur, "Should be around here somewhere. . .Abraham said he left a good amount."

"I think I found it," Peter said, standing up from his kneeling position. His back had been facing me, concealing what the object was they had been looking for.

"Come on, Lily," Jim jerked his head back to motion me forward. Peter got up and turned around, holding a medium-sized Victorian vase in his arms.

"Floo powder," he explained to me, catching my look.

I nodded, once again feeling a great amount of relief. I walked over to the guys and watched as James first disappeared in the fireplace. Remus went next. Jim, then turned to me and held out the vase Peter had given him. "Ladies first," he murmured to me.

My eyes flickered from the dust to Jim's eyes, then back to the powder. With a smile and a blush, I grabbed a handful of the floo powder and stepped in to the fireplace.

"What's the place called?" I asked, a bit of dust leaking through the gaps of my fingers. The strap of my bag began to slip again; I moved my shoulder around in an attempt to keep it up seeing as how my hand was a little occupied.

Jim, distracted with something Sirius was saying, mumbled a 'hmm' to me.

Patiently, I stood, waiting for their conversation to end. Taking to looking at the dirty ground, I wiggled my toes, amusing myself as the small amount of sunlight seeping in to the dank room caught the glitter from my nail polish. Caught up in my self-made delight, I failed to notice the lack of talk between Jim and Sirius.

"Lily?" Peter's voice broke out. I snapped my head back up and blushed. All three were staring at me as though I'd grown a third head.

"Planning on. . .you know. . . _flooing_ anytime," Sirius asked, amusement lacing his voice.

I glared slightly at his mocking and said with a small smile, "The name?"

"Oh right!" Jim said. My bag strap began to slip again, taking some of my attention away from Jim. My eyes flickered to the black leather, then back up to Jim. "It's The Grape Vine."

My eyes had traveled back down to my shoulder, struggling to keep it up. I barely heard, much less took in what he had just said. "The Great–," I began with furrowed brows, hardly comprehending the words I was saying. The strap suddenly fell, pulling back arm down with it, the floo powder showering to the flames below me as I finished in a gasp/squeak, "_Swine_!" I was gone in an instant.

Seconds later, I found myself tumbling out a fireplace, my bags flying forward around me, my hair in disarray. Catching my breath, I looked up, expecting to find Remus and James bustling around me. What I hadn't expected, though, was quite a few unfamiliar, and rather unpleasant, scowls and leers directed towards me in a shady, dark bar. Swallowing nervously, I turned my head and looked up, reading a sign nailed above the fireplace I had just arrived through:

The Great Swine

Damn.

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A/N: Anyways, yeah. I hope you all enjoyed it. Most of it was written this afternoon, so don't kill me if there's grammatical errors I overlooked. I wanted to get this out to you as soon as possible. You're reviews kept me rolling on the floor laughing. All so confusing and whatnot. They even got me a bit confused for a while L Thanks for the reviews, they are sweeter than a red, red rose at Spring's first feat.


	10. The Ninth Hour Alias: Overtime

My hands traveled up to my hair, nervously fixing the mess it had become during my fall. The sunlight was in low supply, the tiny pub only having a few small windows randomly scattered around. A great haze of smoke littered the air; a large cloud surrounding the plump, heavy bodies sitting on moldy wooden stools. My eyes skimmed across the depths of the Great Swine. . .

The Great Swine. . .

It certainly was.

Swallowing again, I picked myself back up and reached for my one bag. Trying my best to ignore the glares I was receiving– after all, you'd think I'd killed these people's families, the way they scowled violently– I opened the bag, backing into a corner. My heart dropped. Five magazines, one book, a sweater, a brush, a few wizard photographs, and some gum. Oh yes, I was quite ready to hike the Lewis and Clark trail with these savvy necessities. Perhaps I'll even climb the Rocky Mountains while I'm at it.

Thinking under pressure had never been my strong suit. Honestly, I now think I should have just stayed at the airport. There, I at least had all of my luggage. Now, I was down to the bare minimum. No money, no clothes, and I was somewhere in America. Truthfully, I think I was taking this all pretty well.

"Where the hell am I?" I whispered to myself, clutching the bag against my chest, straightening my shoulders, and lightly clearing my throat. Just because I had no dignity presently didn't mean I should let everyone else know it. A man with no front teeth hardened his right eyes as I passed by him and then spit on the ground, going back to his drink. I had no doubt if I made some sort of wrong move, one of the drinkers wouldn't hesitate to start their hexing.

Hexing. . .my hand flew down to my sweater pocket. I could have fainted from relief if not for the uncertainty of being mugged of my five magazines and brush while unconscious. At least I still had my wand. I might need it.

Thinking at least the bartender would have some sort of humane personality, I took a seat at the splintery bench on the very end of the bar, about five seats separating me from the nearest toper. My bag sat protectively on my lap as I leaned my elbows on the top and rested my chin in my palms. Mentally, I was reciting a prayer. The occupants leers were almost physically painful as they pierced my back. Their murmurs were practically shouts in my ears. 'A girl like her doesn't belong here.'

Yes, I certainly didn't.

"Excuse me," I said in a strained tone, doing my best to raise the volume of my voice to gain the young bartender's attention. The man, toothlessly smiling my way, continued wiping the glasses near him with a dirty dish rag.

"Can I get you something, Miss?" he asked in a surprisingly polite tone.

"Er," I said, still flustered, clutching my bag all the tighter, "I don't suppose you might tell me. . .where I am."  
"The Great Swine, Miss," he answered in a distinct America accept, coming up to stand right in front of me.

I smiled weakly and asked, "State?" Just how far had I traveled away from Black Magic?

"New York, Miss," he replied patiently, resting one hand on the top of the bar as he leaned forward to stare at me curiously. Well, New York. . .I was at least in the same state. But, did that really help me? After all, I had no clue where our destination was going to be before I ended up here. All I knew was the small building I had left ten minutes ago wasn't it– at the time, I had been grateful. Now, though, I think I would have jumped at the chance to stay in that dusty shack if I knew my luggage would be returned to me.

"Fantastic," I muttered under my breath gloomily, staring down at the rickety wood I was in front of.

I felt an arm plant itself around my shoulders. My eyes widened and my heart thumped wildly. Sensing the person leaning closer, I heard his raspy voice tickle my ear, "Got spare change, honey?"

I maneuvered away from him, my face pale. "Sorry," I forced out shakily, "fresh out."

"Gary," the bartender said with slight warning in his tone, shaking his head, "I told you before not to be botherin' my customers."

I felt Gary's presence distance itself from me as said man glared slightly at the bartender. "Fine," he grumbled, walking off.

The bartender went back to wiping the glasses, leaving me to wallow in my distress solo. This wasn't how I wanted to spend my vacation. I was in New York– people came by the thousands to vacation in this area, I had heard– and, I really had no means to fend for myself. The last time I'd lived as a real muggle was before my Hogwarts era. It's been so long, I didn't think I could actually survive in this world.

This world? What world? I wasn't in the muggle world, not really. Here I was, sitting in a wizards' pub. They were obviously connected to the floo network. Maybe I could–

No, no I couldn't. I couldn't floo to Black Magic's destination, because I didn't _know_ their destination. The Great Swine? Well, that definitely wasn't the right place. What had Jim said? Merlin, why didn't I pay attention?

"Care for a drink, sweetheart?" someone asked from behind.

My shoulders stiffened as I slowly turned my head to stare at the newcomer's face. Any hopes I had about the slurry voice belonging to a familiar face dashed quickly from this pub– as I wanted to do. Dirt was slathered around this man's face as though he fancied a muddy, facial exfoliation in the middle of the day, in the middle of a drunkard's dreamland. A slick smile directed from him to me proved that he did, indeed, have all of his teeth– yellow, they may be. He wore a cloak, tattered and slashed with holes, and, oddly, a blue bandana around his right eye.

"No, thanks," I said coolly, hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone.

Not sensing my tone– or simply overlooking it– the man boldly sidled up next to me and took the stool to my right. I gripped my bag tighter, my knuckles turning white from the strain.

The bartender went back to his own business, obviously providing no submission to aiding me should I need it.

"You sure, bright eyes?" the man persisted, motioning to the bartender, who in turn nodded his head and supplied a stained glass of what appeared to be beer in front of the man. The man winked at me and continued, "Pretty thing like you shouldn't go thirsty."

I refrained from curling my lip and glaring at the man, settling for staying mute and staring down at my bag. I had to come up with a plan. Anything. I could call my father once more. That's it! My eyes brightened considerably as I quickly searched my pockets and bag for some loose change. Quickly, my mood darkened as I realized that I was totally without money.

Frowning, I narrowed my eyes. I could have sworn I had a little bit of muggle money with me. I was certain I had it in the airport. I knew I still had it on my way to that dusty shack with the band.

My face darkened more so. Without another word to the man next to me, I stood up and wrapped the strap of my bag around my shoulder, protectively. More glares were thrown at me as I made my way back to my initial entrance. I almost shuddered at the amount of ash and dust littering the fireplace– no doubt I, too, was now littered with that filth. Before I took another step, I looked down at poked and prodded at my sweater, searching for any and all stains I received. Yes, I was right. I counted nine considerable splotches of dirt on my once beautiful white top.

Going back to the task at hand, I discreetly began to search the fireplace for my lost money. I could almost feel the amount of glances I had been receiving intensify. One of them, I was sure, took my money as it became more and more obvious that my money was not around the fireplace. Great. Now, I was completely hopeless.

I almost ran out of the pub, knocking into a few shouting men. The world outside the dinky building wasn't much different than the inside. The same type of shady residences cluttered the obviously wizard streets. I saw a woman on a nearby corner selling smoky, murky liquids to a few men. Everyone seemed to be dressed in black, as opposed to my now off-white sweater. I knew I stuck out worse than I attracted attention in the Great Swine.

In my past, I paid many visits to Diagon Alley. All those times, I avoided, at all costs, Knockturn Alley. Bodderick Bode, the boy who had been assigned to show me around Diagon Alley the first time to get my school supplies, told me straight off that Knockturn Alley was not a place I wanted to be seen.

'_Shifty blokes, they are, Lily. The type that would make your skin crawl, your spine shudder with terror,' Bodderick had told me when I asked, 'Don't want people to see you wandering down there. Terrible. I was down there once. Luckily, old Dumbledore showed up before anything too rotten could happen.' _

Staring around silently, I knew, logically, that I wasn't in Knockturn Alley, but I most certainly felt like it. Was this how Bodderick had felt when he was down in Knockturn? Like everyone was staring at him. Waiting for an inevitable hand to reach out and pull him along, abduct him. And I could almost feel that offending hand grasp my arm. Just to be certain, my eyes had darted down to check. No hand. Just a lot of leers and glares.

Truly, no person in this population had a smile plastered on their face. You'd think they were all walking to their deaths.

Swallowing, I moved forward. Engulfed in the crowd was a little less stressful, as a matter of fact. At least not everyone was staring at me.

My thoughts were jumbled. As jumbled as the great multitude of people surrounding me. Part of my couldn't help but wonder what the band was doing. Were they worried? As quickly as the question came to me, I dismissed it. They were way too important to worry about some love-struck, crazed admirer. In fact, Remus had probably looked up the residence of my father and made sure the rest of my luggage was out of their concern. I felt it was my God-given right to let out a sad sigh at the thought.

The thought of not seeing any of them again. The thought of not seeing Jim, in particular, again. Jim, my airplane neighbor, my growing love interest. Never to be seen again. Well, it was my own fault, after all. I could have paid attention. Why didn't I pay attention?

Why couldn't I stop brooding over it?

Because, sad, pathetic, broke, teenage girls tend to brood over equally sad disappointments. It's their own God-given right. I let out another sad sigh– indulging in mine once more.

Suddenly, without warning, two magnified brown eyes took my line of vision. I stopped; people knocked into me. Rude murmurs were being thrown around as people inconveniently avoided me and the old lady in front of me. Before I could say a word, the silver-haired woman had her wrinkly hands on my bag.

"My bag," she hissed at me angrily, her eyes flashing, her lips tight. "You stole my bag, you little hooligan!"

A hooligan? I think that's the first time I've ever been called that.

"Your bag?" said I in astonishment, gripping my bag all the tighter. "I did no such thing!"

"You did, you did!" she screeched, "I saw you! Give me my bag back!"

We were starting to attract attention. I myself was mortified, for at that moment the crowd now surrounding us started to murmur that I should "give the old lady back her bag."  
"It's not hers," I cried to them desperately, my eyes darting every which way to meet one unpleasant, unfriendly face after another. "It's mine. I didn't steal it from you. This is _my bag!_"

"I saw you take it!" she sneered evilly at me.

"You did no such thing, because I didn't take it!" I countered shakily. The crowd had started to chant in favor of the old lady.

"Give her the bag!" someone shouted at me. My nerves were shot. Tears stung my eyes. And, my arms hurt. The old woman was stronger than she looked.

"It's mine!" I screamed back. I probably looked crazy. My hair was flailing about my face now. I had lost my left sandal somewhere during our struggle. The lady, in her effort to gain a tighter, more secure grasp on _my_ bag, pulled the sleeve of my sweater, ripping it. A nice long gash now accompanied the dirt stains and ashes.

"You little thief, don't you have anything better to do than to steal from an old lady?" a woman from the crowd shouted.

"I didn't, dammit!" I cried, pulling harder. The tears streaming down my face held locks of my red hair like glue, shielding most of my vision.

"Let's take a look inside the bag," a level-headed voice chimed in.

I breathed a sigh of relief, still struggling for my bag. Someone approached the two of us and made to reach for the bag. We both stiffened, gripping the leather tighter.

"Relax, ladies," the same calm voice spoke. I whipped my head around, trying to get the hair out of my eyes. The guy who had come up to us looked only a few years older than I. He seemed rather familiar, but I couldn't place a name with the face.

Carefully, so as not to set either one of us off, the guy opened the bag. I saw, from the corner of my eye, the old lady tense, and I fought the urge to smirk triumphantly. So much for trying to steal from me.

"You read teenage-targeted magazines?" the guy asked, amusement lacing his tone as he addressed the older lady. She looked flustered only for a moment before her eyes hardened once more.

"It's for my granddaughter," she answered defiantly.

"Ah," he replied, never losing his confident smile. Going back to the bag, he ruffled around. I felt my cheeks burn as he brought out the photographs I had taken along. They were, to say the least, quite embarrassing photos. "And, I suppose this is also your granddaughter dancing around in duckie pajamas, singing into a hairbrush. . .this hairbrush, to be exact." He pulled out my green brush.

With one hand still protectively grasping my bag, I snatched the offending photos away from before anyone else could see me singing Black Magic's, I'm Lost in Your Magic, in my not-exactly-modest pajamas. "It was a dare," I murmured to him, humiliated.

As mortifying as the experience was, it certainly made the woman and the crowd get off my back. Without even a note of apology in my direction, the older woman glared at me, then at the guy, before finally loosening her grip completely and stalking off– probably to find another poor soul to steal from. The crowd dispersed, only a select few giving me apologetic glances.

The guy and I were finally left alone. I, still clutching the leather bag to my chest frantically, glanced up at him, sniffling occasionally as the tears stopped.

"Thanks," I said, looking up at him once more.

"Don't worry about it," he said, smiling reassuringly at me. He looked really familiar.

"No really," I insisted, "This bag. . .well, it's. . .I don't know what I would have done if I lost it," I admitted, still stressed.

"Lily, don't worry about it, really," the guy said calmly.

I blinked, "Do I know you?" I asked, still racking my brain for a name.

He laughed, "I should think so. . ." he took one of the pictures from my hand and tapped at it, "My wife framed a copy of this picture in our living room, after all." I glanced at the picture. It was taken in my sixth year. The head girl, Gretchen Ambroseia, a Gryffindor like myself, had gotten all of the Gryffindors girls together for a picture one sunny day in April. There I was, third row. My nose was green due to a misfortunate event in the Great Hall the week before it was taken. Darren Klimas grew two heads once a first year informed me of my green nose. The jerk had terrible aim and had been trying to hit Maria Fwentine four seats away.

"Your wife?" I murmured, still staring at the picture. Finally, as my eyes traveled across Alice Glaze, a seventh year at the time. "Frank Longbottom!" I exclaimed, probably surprising him by unexpectedly throwing my arms around him, embracing him tightly. I'd met him on only a few occasions, when he would stop by Hogwarts to visit Alice. But, they became dear to me after only a few conversations. The Longbottoms had invited me to their wedding, but scheduling conflicts arose in the form of my sister's godforsaken engagement party. I'd never forget that day- I arrived wearing the same dress as Petunia. It was terrible.

Frank laughed loudly, "It's good to see you too, Lily Evans. Haven't seen your face for a long while. Alright?"

I nodded, "Yes, I'm alright. You have no idea how great it is to see you."

"I can guess," he said, pulling back, "Actually, I've been looking for about. . ." he took a glance up at the sun, "I'd say three hours around this place. Searching high and low. Sirius said you might be around here somewhere."  
"Sirius sent you?" I exclaimed, my relief intensifying. At least now I knew they were doing something about this.

"'Course he did. Well, they all did. Told me the whole story, the lot of them did." Frank shook his head, "I told them that didn't sound like the Lily Evans I knew. . .making a silly mistake like that and all."

"I got distracted," I feebly defended myself, a faint blush creeping up on my face.

Frank playing nudged my shoulder as we started walking through the crowd. "Like I said, that didn't sound like you at all. Tut, tut, Lily, scaring them like that. Jim was frantic, Remus was shouting at Sirius, James. . .well, he was the one to come and get me. Peter, that poor guy, was practically in tears. Poor bloke is fragile, you know," Frank pulled me along.

I forced a strained laugh. Never in my life had I endured so much stress in such a short amount of time.

"Going to be alright?" Frank said, looking slightly concerned as he finally noticed the remains of my tears.

"Yes, yes, I'll be fine," I said, securing the bag over my shoulder once more, "I'm just. . .I never. . .first I meet Black Magic, then I loose my luggage, my money. I show up in a beat up, old pub with very mean people glaring at me. And an _old lady_ tries to steal from me." I ran a hand through my hair, "I'm just really stressed." I looked down, pouting slightly, "And, I need to buy a new pair of sandals."

"You'll get a chance to change clothes once we arrive," Frank squeezed my shoulder comfortingly, his eyes narrowed in concern. "We'll be at The Grape Vine shortly, don't worry."

"The Grape Vine!" I exclaimed, "That was it," I snapped my fingers before placing a weary hand on my forehead in exasperation. "I stun myself, sometimes," I went on, rolling my eyes.

Frank smiled again, "Well, anyway, we'll be there soon."

He led me into a candy shop, pulling me along through the crowds and to the back of the store. Opening the back door, Frank led me through into a small, dank room with no windows, color, or anything of cheer. The only thing in the room was a fireplace and a small, cream urn next to it on the floor.

"How do you feel about flooing just once more?" he asked, turning towards me.

I gripped the strap of my bag tighter and looked at the fireplace wordlessly. For a moment, I considered all my options. Finally, I turned back to Frank and forced a smile.

His grin widened as he pushed my forward, "Thatta girl!"

* * *

A/N: Hey all, sorry for the long awaited update. Don't hurt me if you see some grammatical errors. As always, I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as I could. 


	11. Three Hour Timespan Alias: Overtime

Instantly, I changed my mind. Frank, though, was having none of it, and firmly continued to push me until my nose was brushing the inside stones of the fireplace. The grey rocks were sooty, covered in terrible ash. It was as though I sprinkled pepper straight up into my nostrils, for at that moment, I let out a great sneeze, followed by a loud, "No–_ooooooo_," my word of protest turned into a fancy little tune as Frank threw some powder into the building fire, and said the location for me.

Funny, Frank seemed to be a lot more presumptuous than the last time we'd met— if you ask me— but then again, he's not the one hurtling through whatever wizards hurtling through to make it to their intended destination via the Floo Network— no, that would be me.

"–_ooooooo_–umph," I finally stopped. For the second time that day, I landed flat on my bum, blowing locks of hair out of my eyes. My mood was slowly beginning to sour. After moving out of the line of fire Frank was most likely going to appear through, I slowly leaned back until my back was flat on the hard wood floor. Staring straight up at the wooden beams supporting the molten, decomposing ceiling, the putrid scent settled over the room suddenly made itself known to me. Where was I? Surely this wasn't the Grape Vine. It was dimly lit, and smaller than that shack Black Magic had taken me to initially. Rock stars of their prominence certainly wouldn't stand for boarding in a one-roomed shanty.

The sudden sound of a body landing harshly on the ground next to me caused my lip to curl slightly. Huffily, I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring up at the balance beams. A few house elves shifted around in the corners, somberly cleaning the dust and mildew from the walls and floor, causing me to wonder what this place exactly was.

But, at the moment, I had other matters to attend to. Such as. . .

"You pushed me into a ride of spirally death," I snarled at Frank.

Not at all affected by his journey, nor my spitted words, Frank hopped up to his feet, turning around to help— well, _pull_— me up as well. Shakily, I regained my bearings, holding me hand out and grasping on to the rickety, dangerously loose piece of wood used as a mantle as I saw only black spots. I was drowsy, and it was beginning to affect me.

"It was inevitable, Lily, really," answered Frank briskly. He gently took my arm and guided me out a door not six feet away from the fireplace. I crossed my arms, trying to make sense of the situation. How, exactly, would I be contacted when my flight to Chicago was once more ready to be boarded? Why was the band going through so much trouble just to bring me to them? My luggage, of course, was with them, but that could easily be shipped out to me. They were wizards, after all, and could find where my father lived without breaking a sweat from the non-existent effort they would have to go through.

As soon as Frank opened the door, my vision was filled with startling light. This room he was leading me into was the exact opposite of the one I had just lain in a few moments ago. Large, and cheerful, the room— I suppose it was a parlor of some sorts— was painted an ivory white. Great pillars held the chandelier-spotted ceiling, boughs of grape vines spiraling down the white columns. Paintings of landscapes, people, and many oddities one wouldn't expect in a painting littered the walls.

This was the Grape Vine.

The marble floor beneath my feet seemed to vibrate suddenly. I looked over at Frank, who was staring expectantly up at the massive staircase to our right. Curiously, I followed his gaze and found myself staring at a large abundance of males stampeding down the stairs.

Remus was the first of the crowd to approach us.

"Excellent," he breathed out with relief. "Dreadfully sorry about the misunderstanding, Lily. We've taken the liberty to move your luggage up to a room hopefully up to your standards."

"Hey Frank, you found her!" exclaimed Sirius happily, bounding up to us, a wide grin on his face. For half a second, I found myself annoyed with his carefree tone. How could anyone be so mellow after the hell I've just been through?

"Lily!" Peter tackled me into a large hug, knocking the wind from me.

"Hi," I answered breathlessly, and very much in discomfort.

"Give her some air, won't you, Wormtail?" James spoke from a few feet away, breaking away from his hushed conversation with another grungy only for a moment to wink reassuringly at me. "The girl needs to breath, ya know."

Another set of footsteps sounded from the stairs. Jim came barreling down so fast, I was struck grateful for the fact that his hand was making good use of the railing and not trip down the marble steps. It didn't take five seconds before Peter was flying away until his back hit the wall behind me non-too-gently, and Jim's arms replaced Peter's around my form.

"Man, Lily, I'm so sorry. We should have paid more attention. Oh, man, where'd you end up? I hope you didn't think we'd abandon you and leave you to make due on your own." I slowly breathed in, my head spinning. He smelt like cinnamon. . . It took everything I had not to drop into a faint then and there in Jim's arms.

"We put your bags up in the pearl room, right next to mine. It's really nice; you'll like it. You should go and lie down, or maybe take a shower. Just relax," he continued to babble on, even as Sirius was pulling him away from me. He then got a full shot of my state and tripped into another stream of words, "What happened to you? Have you been crying? Where'd you end up? Your sweater is torn. Did someone do this to you? I'm so sorry; we should have been paying more attention. The Great Swine, is that where you ended up? Shady place, that is Lily—,"

"Well, we could let Jim continue on with his incoherent prattle, or we could get back to work and let Martin take Lily up to her room; she looks like she could faint dead on the spot," Sirius broke through, staring at Lily.

Before Jim could answer, Remus cut in and said, "I, on behalf of everyone, choose the latter." He rubbed his ears moodily and nodded at a guy I assumed to be Martin. The guy had a funky nose ring, dread locks, and shabby clothing.

I let him take me up the staircase and down endless rows of halls until we finally reached mine. Not even taking the time to observe the room, I made a beeline for the bed and instantly fell asleep when my head hit the pillow.

* * *

"Tolly wishes Miss Lily to please awaken."

Cold, slithering fingertips prodded at my face and arm. That was the first sensation I felt, which brought me out of my heavy slumber. Feeling like I'd been strongly sedated, I lazily opened my eyes, staring straight into another set of large, golf ball eyes of mint green. The house elf who had woken me was wearing a turban around its head, covering the large ears I knew had to be stuffed underneath.

With a joyous, ugly smile, the house elf, Tolly, continued, "Master James wishes for Miss Lily to meet him and the rest of Master James' band in the dining room for dinner. Master Sirius wishes for Tolly to lead Miss Lily there."

"Alright," I murmured, fighting off the drowsiness that still threatened to throw me unconscious once more. "Alright, I'll only be a few moments. I should really take a shower first."

"Tolly will wait for Miss Lily," announced Tolly, clutching her hands in front of her patiently. I smiled and dragged myself up to my suitcases, pulling out new clothes and socks. Curiously, I pulled open a door I knew didn't lead to the hall and peeked through it, happy to see it was a bathroom.

A quarter hour later, I found myself refreshed and following Tolly along the carpeted hall to a large room filled with laughter. I watched, for a few concealed moments, as Sirius head banged and flailed a pair of drumsticks— I assumed he'd nicked them from Remus' luggage— around, lost in a musical world all his own. Beside him, Jim, James, and Remus were lounging back, casually sipping some sort of beverage and cracking jokes.

"C'mon, Lily," a voice sounded behind me, suddenly, causing me to jump slightly. I turned, expecting to see Tolly standing there, but instead, Peter stood there.

Grinning, he took my gently by the arm and guided me into the room, "We've been waiting for you, and I for one am _starving_."

"Oh, sorry," I apologized, taking a seat in an unoccupied chair right next to Jim, across from Peter, "I dozed off for a while. Must have lost track of time."

"Not a problem," answered Remus, motioning someone to come to him. In response, an older woman walked into the dining room, a dozen or so platters of food levitated behind her. For a moment, flashbacks of my first feast at Hogwarts came to my mind. "We've just been discussing the finer aspects of Professor Norrington."

"Remember him, Lily?" asked James conversationally.

"Of course," I exclaimed, my eyes wide as I began to scoop some mashed potatoes onto my plate. "He was such a pleasant man; taught Potions so explicitly and with such vigor and passion. I really admired him."

A moment's silence passed through the room, and for that short amount of time, I felt more self-conscious than I've ever felt before. And, with my past discretions and humiliating escapades, that was saying something. Then, just before my face was going to burst into flames (by then, it was red and hot enough) everyone began to laugh. I stared at them, bemused.

A reassuring hand was placed on my shoulder as Jim gave it a gently squeeze. I looked over at him, my heart melting when he winked at me. "We're not laughing at you, Lily," he assured me, chuckling heartily himself.

"What are you laughing at, then?" I asked, fidgeting nervously in my seat as I fingered my utensils hesitantly. My appetite was slowly dispersing.

"Professor Norrington _hated_ us," indulged Peter, before stuffing a large portion of peas into his mouth, his shoulders quivering with giggles.

"He hated everyone," informed Sirius, who had ceased his musical actions and was now focusing intently on the volcano mound of mashed potatoes he had formed, "except his 'select few' of acceptable students."

"Translation: young, beautiful, female students," Remus explained, rolling his eyes as he thought back to his most abhorred professor, "He's such a nasty, old man."

"No way!" I cried out, thinking back to the potions instructor. It did kind of make sense. I did recall a few times he'd give me and a few other girls extra points for just turning in assignments. Though, at the time, he had remarked that those essays were 'exceptionally written'.

Though. . .I had only just scribbled about three paragraphs with no research, five minutes before we were to turn them in.

Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on the table, my mouth hanging open, aghast and shocked. "Wow," I said.

That only made them laugh all the harder. As embarrassed as I was at that moment, the fact that Jim suddenly had his arm around me in a half-hug made the humiliation all worth while.

"That's just too funny, Lily," he gasped out.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the wait. . . wow, almost four months. God bless anyone still reading this! Anyways, I'm not sure I like the ending to this chapter, but it'll have to do, I suppose. Now, all readers, don't get selfish on the reviews. I slaved over this chapter (coughs) for hours, hoping to get a response. 


	12. Three More Hours: Overtime

I ate too much.

Far too much.

My stomach churned while my face took on a green shade. I sat, my back hunched slightly, in my seat. My eyes stared at the grotesque sight of my plate stained with the remains of bits of food while I absently took in parts of the conversation flitting around me. Gone was the talk of perverted old professors; we'd passed that topic long ago, going on to discuss all things Quidditch: Quidditch players, Quidditch equipment, dates and times of Quidditch games, Quidditch robes, and now finally settled on the age old, philosophical question...the chicken, or the egg?

Jim had been pouting ever since Remus brought the question up, taking over the discussion.

"Without the chicken, there would _be no egg_," Peter insisted, licking his lip before shoving a spoonful of steak into his mouth.

"Duh, how did the chicken _get_ here?" Sirius argued, tapping Peter's forehead non-too-gently with one of Remus' drumsticks he still held.

"In an egg, _from_ another chicken." Peter answered quickly, nearly forgetting to swallow.

"Let's not forget the fact that it could have been a wizard creating the chicken, _or_ the egg," James pointed out, twirling his wand in the same manner Sirius had been handling Remus' drumsticks.

"God, I love debate," Remus grinned, talking mostly to me and Jim, probably not wanting to disturb the thrilling, stimulating, _intelligent_ argument. My discomfort drove my mouth to open to dish out a scathing remark about my objections to this dinner talk, but the excited gleam in his eye stifled my attempt. I merely sighed and slumped back in my seat, massaging my poor tummy as Remus jumped into the argument.

Jim, who had been doodling a picture of a Quidditch player on a napkin, looked up at my sigh.

"You ate a lot," he remarked softly, a small smile dancing across his lips.

"Sirius challenged me," I defended myself.

"Ah." Jim nodded, and I noticed with a slight flutter of my heart, that he adjusted himself in his seat so he was sitting closer to me. He was closer yet when he leaned forward and speak softly in my ear, "But you see his face? It's lacking a certain gray hue yours holds."

Momentarily bewitched by his sexy stare, the pangs in my stomach demanded my attention again. I moaned and leaned forward to stare at my plate woefully again. "That's because he has six stomachs and I only have one."

My moan had caught the attention of the rest of the guys, who all laughed at my expense. "I'm surrounded by gentlemen," I muttered sarcastically.

Jim laughed a little harder at that, but nonetheless stood, gently pulling me up with him. "Come on."

He led me into another room, an elegant, large room showered in deep burgundies and golds. The lit fireplace and a few candles were the only sources fighting the growing darkness behind the windows. What the large windows didn't cover, cases and cases of books did. Near the fireplace sat a plush, red couch, and two matching armchairs. With a quick pang of nostalgia, I noticed the room greatly resembled the Gryffindor commons.

Jim led me to the couch.

"Alright, why don't you lie down for a bit. You'll feel better soon," he assured me. I did as he requested and he propped a soft pillow under my head. I sighed, closing my eyes, then swallowed before taking another deep breath. I felt Jim gingerly taking off my shoes.

"Would you like a blanket?" he asked.

"No, thanks." I smiled slightly, peeking at him underneath my eyelashes. My hand wandered to my stomach, rubbing it lightly again. I watched, stiffening very slightly, as Jim slowly sat by my side. His face appeared even more intense in the fire's light, shadowing darting around each feature. Concern was etched around his eyes and mouth. My mouth quirked when I met his eyes and I relaxed once more.

Thousands of thoughts danced around my mind.

God, he was gorgeous.

We'd look amazing as a couple (or rather, Jim would continue looking amazing, while enhancing my presence with him by my side).

His lips look so soft.

I hate food.

Damn all food challenges to hell.

The flight should...oooh, my stomach feels ten times better with his hand lightly massaging it.

The rest of my thoughts disappeared instantly. His hand kept grazing my own and warming my stomach. I took a deep breath, mesmerized. Our eyes were still connected, seemingly unable to break the spell. His glasses caught the firelight every now and then, making his eyes all the more smoldering.

"Any better?" Jim's lips barely moved, his voice so quiet I wouldn't have heard his question if there had been _any_ noise whatsoever aside from the cackling fire.

"Uh," I mumbled. Work brain, _work_! I silently nodded. His hand slowed their ministrations, and try as I might, I couldn't stop the disappointment from flashing in my eyes.

"That's good," he murmured, taking his hand that wasn't on my stomach and tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. My breath hitched when he stroked my cheek gently. "It's been a long day," he whispered.

Was his face a little closer to mine?

"Yeah," I whispered right back, not wanting to break the mood.

"Yeah," he repeated quietly. His hand began rubbing my belly again. My breath caught in my throat again. I couldn't seem to get enough air in my lungs suddenly.

Oh, oh, he was getting closer.

"Yeah."

It was really happening.

His thumb softly rubbed the skin underneath my eye, causing them to flutter close again. My smile grew a little. Soon, I could feel his warm breath on my face. My hands were sweaty with anticipation, my heart thumping wildly. So close.

So close...

"...and Frank was going to stop by there sometime tonight or tomorrow."

I felt Jim jerk back and my eyes flew open at the sound of Peter' voice. His hands pulled away from my cheek and stomach, finding their own places to support himself on the couch. All four band members entered the room just as Jim pushed himself up off the couch. I nearly flung my arms around his torso to stop him, but held myself back just in time.

"Here, Lily," Remus said, coming over and handing me a steaming cup. "This should make you feel a little better. Careful; it's hot."

Propping myself up against the armrest of the couch, I took it, taking heed of his warning. "Thanks," I responded gratefully.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that," Sirius said, throwing himself down on one of the chairs gracefully.

"He sometimes forgets that not everyone can eat three four-course meals and still save room for five desserts," James supplied, planting himself down on the rug.

Sirius shot him a rude gesture before turning back to me, genuine remorse in his eyes, "I am sorry...but hey, potions was one of Remus' best subjects at school. That stuff should make you feel better in no time."

"You're forgiven," I said, taking a small sip of the vile-tasting green liquid. "It was my fault for accepting your challenge anyways," I continued wryly.

We gradually fell into a lighthearted conversation. Remus took the other chair, leaving Jim and Peter to settle themselves on the floor with James.

Remus and I were discussing a recent article in the Daily Prophet when Peter suddenly said loudly, "Sirius, truth or dare?"

Instantly, the guys groaned, but Sirius answered with a gleam in his eye, "Dare."

"Run two laps around the house," Peter challenged. Sirius' eyes wandered to the window, watching rain splatter the glass pane fiercely. All were staring at him curiously.

Then, Jim quirked a brow, "It's more of a mansion-"

"-and with the way Sirius runs-" Remus chimed in.

"We'll be waiting forever," Jim laughed.

That was all the prompting Sirius needed. He shot up out of his chair and exited the room, throwing a forceful, "Time me," over his shoulder. I buried my face in my pillow to stifle my laughs. Remus' potion had worked quickly, the empty cup sitting safely on the floor next to the couch.

James was on his feet as fast as Sirius had been, and took Sirius' chair the second the door shut to the outside.

My eyes wandered over to Jim, who was leaned up against my couch. "I can move my feet if you want to get off the floor."

Jim looked up at me and smiled, "That's alright; just stay comfortable." Swoon.

"How old are we?" Remus asked with a tint of amusement. "Playing truth or dare..."

"Remember playing it back at Hogwarts?" Peter asked.

"It was better there," Jim remarked, ruffling his hair. "We had McGonagall and Snivellus to use for dares."

My eyes darted to one of the windows and I smirked slightly at the sight of a drenched Sirius jogging past in the dark. That's one lap.

We sat in silence for a few moments. A comfortable one. As I continued to lay on the couch, absently stroking my cheek that still tingled, I was again struck dumb that I was lucky enough to be in a situation like this. These guys were so cool, and I...well, I was no where as cool as these guys.

My mind clouded with that thought, I fidgeted around until I was lying on my side. Jim turned his head to look at me and I met his eye. We smiled at each other.

Panting drew our eyes to the doorway. Sirius was back, drenched from the rain. He pointed at Peter, wordlessly for a few seconds, walking over and sitting on the ground. "You're gonna get it," he warned. Peter snorted, laughing loudly at Sirius' expense.

"Merlin's beard, Sirius," said Remus, "you could at least dry off." He took the liberty of waving his wand, and Sirius was dried in an instant. Sirius merely grunted.

His emotions were a pendulum. One instant he was glaring daggers at anything his eye caught, then the next, his back straightened and he exclaimed, "Lily, truth or dare."

I looked away from the fireplace and my smile wavered at the mischievous sparkle in his eye. I propped my head up against my open palm and hesitated. After a few beats, I replied, "Um...dare." I think.

The satisfied smirk that settled on Sirius' lips brought me to regret my decision at once. "Splendid!"

I frowned.

"Lily, I dare you to kiss James." I froze. My hesitation must have triggered something in Sirius, for he no longer looked so triumphant. He looked...sheepish?

Remus snuck a quick, apprehensive look over at Jim, who was glaring daggers at Sirius. Peter was shaking his head, his hand covering his mouth, watching everyone's expression.

I looked over at James, who was looking as indifferent as ever. When he caught my stare, though, he straightened and looked over at Sirius briefly before a small smile tugged his lips.

"How 'bout it?" James winked playfully.

I really didn't want to. But, not wanting to start something, I slowly sat up. "Alright," I said slowly, standing even slower. With a stifled sigh, I briskly walked over to James and knelt next to his chair. I smiled weakly at him before leaning in and pecking his lips. Quickly. That wasn't so bad...I guess. He was hot and all. But, dammit. Why couldn't Sirius have said, "_Lily, kiss Jim._"

When I stood, I ruffled his hair and walked back over to the couch, settling back down on it. I licked my lips, disappointed but not letting it show.

Actually, my attention had fallen on Sirius. He was mouthing something to Jim, who was still glaring heatedly back. I don't know why, but my suspicions rose at this. Sirius was random, but for me to kiss James... My brows furrowed as I struggled to make out what Sirius was saying. It looked like..._I forgot_. I forgot? What did _that_ mean?

"So Lily!" Remus nearly shouted, jerking me back to reality, Sirius and Jim along with me. He had startled me; my heart was racing.

"What?" I asked shakily.

"Erm...uh, you're turn," he mumbled, blushing at his outburst.

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay...um, Peter, truth or dare." I completely forgot about my suspicions as the game continued for a while longer.


	13. The Next Day

It was nearing midnight and the fire was beginning to die. We stopped playing Peter's game a while again, settling for lounging around lazily, just watching the flames slowly diminish. Not one of us possessed enough ambition to feed the fire. I, personally, was glad no one did. It was a soothing sight; I really couldn't remember a better time I had with friends.

Yes, I had to admit, these guys were just too cool not to be considered friends. I was friends with a famous wizard band...a famous wizard band with plenty of clueless muggle fans. Three of those fans which happened to be the bane of my existence. I relished in that thought for quite a while, a small smile tugging my lips. I'd have to write Abigail about this. I could only hope she'd fall into a pit of agonizing depression over this delicious piece of news. I was friends with Black Magic...and she wasn't.

I snorted loudly and unexpectedly during my relish-session, and instantly clammed up. The unsavory noise drew the attention of the rest of the room's slugs; they all turned their heads lazily to glance over at me. I blushed, but luckily the mellow lighting hid it. That could have been embarras...oh, who was I kidding? I hadn't stopped embarrassing myself since the second I met Jim that morning.

Had it really been only a day?

"What's funny?" Sirius asked, grinning eagerly at the prospect of humor. He was definitely a night person, for as the rest of us gradually fell into a state of subdued bliss at the heightening hours of the night, he simply got more restless at our lack of ambition.

"Nothing," I said, clearing my throat. Something held me back from revealing my roommate and her friends. Sure, I'd told Jim on the airplane about how we couldn't stand each other, but it wasn't exactly my wildest dream come true to explain to the guys that I was absolutely giddy about our friendship and what torment I could inflict on those three bimbos. I was a loser, but I wasn't stupid (well, except in DADA, but I wasn't planning on running in to any dark wizards anytime soon, so I wasn't worried). If I told them that, I might as well catch a taxi out of here right now to save myself from seeing the disgusted looks on their faces. Who would like a needy friend, seriously?

"You snorted," Peter pointed out.

"Yeah, that's not nothing," James laughed lightly, absently twirling his wand around his fingers.

"I tried to stifle a sneeze," I lied.

That seemed to appease them. They all went back to their own separate activities (ie. staring at the flames), but Jim glanced up at me again. He was still leaning against the couch I was lying on. It had to be uncomfortable, sitting in the same position for hours. I felt a pang of guilt. I had the entire sofa to myself, and he was sitting on the floor. Granted, so was Sirius and Peter, but still. I admit, I like Jim. He's hot, he's funny, he's _so_ kind...and he's _hot_. He was nice enough to comfort me earlier, the least he could do is sit on the sofa.

"Come sit," I insisted quietly.

"Don't worry about me," he answered just as quietly.

"Don't worry about _me_," I shot back, moving so I was half-lying, half-sitting. I curled my legs underneath me, making room. "Sit," I pointed, commanding with a good-natured smile on my face.

He just looked at me for a few seconds, an amused grin on his face. We engaged in a staring contest for what seemed like an eternity, me studying his face for the umpteenth time that time.

"Well, if you're not gonna sit, _Jim_, then I am."

Right before Sirius could go through with his promise, Jim shot up and collapsed in the designated couch cushion.

"Git," Sirius responded, lying back down.

"So." I summoned a quilt from the corner of the room. Looking over at Jim, I wordlessly gestured in a questioning way if he wanted some of it. He shrugged, and I situated it so it covered us both. My, wasn't I the bold little minx today? "What were you guys like in Hogwarts?"

Sirius' eyes lit up. "We were the bloody coolest."

"_Are_ the bloody coolest," Jim countered, quite smug.

"Back at Hogwarts, we were. Now, we are," Peter explained then looked rather confused himself. "Wait-"

Remus rolled his eyes, his fingers lazily tapping the arms of his seat. "We were a bunch of troublemakers-,"

"-the Marauders," Peter interrupted proudly.

"-that pulled pranks on mostly Slytherians, or anyone else that crossed Jim and Sirius," Remus continued in stride. He then shot his index finger towards Jim and Sirius and remarked, "Those two practically ran the school...and were arrogant bastards if I do say so myself." The statement would have been a nasty insult, if it weren't for the growing smile on Remus' face. I found myself unable to resist mirroring the grin.

"Are they still arrogant bastards?"

"Arrogant bastards?" Jim exclaimed indignantly.

"Remus! I'm hurt!" Sirius mocked, laughing.

"We're not arrogant bastards," Jim told me quickly, grasping my shoulder as if to will me to believe him. Not that he had _anything _to worry about. Jim Caulder was perfec...Tans. Jim Tans was...was...

...Wait, what?

...Oooh, his hand is so warm on my shoulder.

"What did you think of Filch, Lily?" Sirius snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Filch?" I gave an involuntary shudder, "There are no words."

"Remember Peeves?" Peter asked.

Sirius barked out laughter, "Everyone hated him...I personally thought he was an incredible asset to our group."

"When he got something out of it," Remus reminded them.

"You're being awfully quiet," I commented to James. He seemed so left out. "Who was your favorite teacher."

James looked over at the rest of us, blinking a few times before answering hesitantly, "McGonagall."

"She was my favorite, too," I nodded, looking over at Jim, flashing him a dazzling smile. He smiled back.

"Me too," he whispered.

"Tell me a little about your pranks?" I asked them. Sirius and Jim instantly sprung into action.

It had to have been at least an hour later before they lost interest of reliving their school days and we all eventually fell into some sort of stupor.

_Somehow_ I even ended up resting my head on Jim's shoulder.

"Can we listen to some music?" I asked suddenly.

Remus opened his eyes- he'd been dozing off, but that had caught his attention. "James, you wanna do the honors?" he asked, yawning.

James appeared not to have heard, gazing at the fire until Sirius threw a pillow at his face. "Huh, what!" He exclaimed, blinking back to reality.

"I said, can you start some music, _James_?" Remus repeated slowly. I watched the two with squinted eyes.

"Yeah, sure," James murmured. "What do you guys want?"

"Let's hear some of your songs," I suggested, inwardly wincing when I realized how eager I sounded. But really, how cool would it be to hear Black Magic's songs _with_ Black Magic?

Remus smiled gently over at me, followed by Sirius, Peter, then Jim, all of whom copied the smile, with amused undertones. James fiddled with his wand for a moment before the sounds of _Whirling Serenade_ filled the air. Despite my burning face, I squeal and bounced in my seat for a moment.

"Ha! This is my favorite song ever," James murmured, mostly to himself.

My eyes glanced over at him, slightly taken aback at his remark. It was...a little conceited. I shrugged it off, sitting now fully upright with my feet still tucked underneath me.

"I'm gonna turn in for the night," Remus stated, standing up and stretching with a small yawn.

"Same here," Peter remarked, mirroring Remus' actions. They waved and exchanged farewells before going on their separate ways.

I stretched in my seat, sighing in content as I leaned back again and blissfully closed my eyes.

* * *

I don't know exactly when I fell asleep, but logic told me I must have, because one minute I was listening to Jim's steady, soothing breathing, and the next I opened my eyes to the unsympathetic rays of bright sunlight streaming through the windows of a semi-familiar room: the room I had napped in yesterday evening.

For one brief second, I panicked about my clothes and ripped my blankets off. Sighing in relief, I looked down at my clothes, the same ones from yesterday. Uncomfortable, but I'd rather be wearing these than my pajamas, especially since I don't recall walking to this room. One of the guys must have brought me up here...and was gentlemanly enough not to tear my clothes off. My face cracked from the stupid grin growing on my face: maybe it was Jim. He was a total gentlemen; it had to be him.

Filled with a sudden burst of energy I could only assume sprung from my newfound giddiness, I hopped out of bed, and tore through my suitcase. I had to look pretty today. Today was the day that would determine whether or not I'd see any of these guys again in my life without reading their articles in teeny-bop magazines. I had to impress Jim before I made it to Chicago.

Taking a quick shower and then fiddling with my hair (using magic to enhance it just slightly), I emerged from the bathroom connecting to my room, refreshed and nervous. Yesterday felt like a million years; it was hard to believe I'd only known the guys for less than 24 hours. My mind began wandering. The weather looked civil enough now, though I had no idea where we were. The lack of snow from the blizzard yesterday led me to believe we weren't in New York City anymore. The rain from yesterday night was even dried up; it looked like a gorgeous day.

Touching my curls, and tugging at my sweater, I left my room. The house elves were no where in sight, so I as on my own to guess which way the kitchen was. I turned a few corners, remembering I walked down a staircase yesterday to the dining room. But so far, I hadn't seen one.

Frowning, I absently fiddled with my wand and considered using some sort of spell to assist me. Before I could act further, though, I heard voices. They were coming from just up ahead.

"...different from the rest."

I was just about to knock and enter the room, for I recognized the voice as Jim's.

"She is different, but how do you know for sure if you can trust her?" Remus's voice.

"You heard what Frank said about her-,"

I paused, my fist raised to the door. After a quick battle with my conscience, I lowered my hand. They were talking about me. Who else would 'she' be?

"-she is completely trustworthy."

"Well, I for one like her." Peter.

"We all do Peter," Sirius. "Bottom line, Prongs, is when are you going to tell her that you're-"

Jim Caulder.

Jim Tans.

"James Potter," I whispered, instantly struck with that knowledge right before Sirius repeated the same name.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's a little bit shorter, but hey, this has to be my quickest update yet! Thanks for reviewing everyone! 


	14. The Dad

A/N: There's a bit more language used in this chapter than before, just to let you know.

* * *

James Potter.

James Potter didn't have blond hair. And James Potter _didn't_ have blue eyes. James Potter had messy, dark hair, and dark brown eyes. He wore glasses, wire-rimmed. He had a straight nose. He had a lean, fine physique. James Potter had the slightest hint of a dimple in his right cheek, not to mention high cheek bones. He was tall; taller than me.

James Potter plays the bass. James is a backup singer. James likes dancing, the color green, and sunsets. He hates glasses- though why would he wear them, I wonder- and combs. James Potter doesn't like apples. And he knows Remus' middle name. James Potter knows who I am, yet I didn't know...who he was. Is.

Lost in my own jungle of mangled up thoughts, I almost didn't hear James answer Sirius' question.

"I...don't know."

My heart sank as I closed my eyes briefly. I shouldn't be listening to this. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to pull away just yet.

"What's stopping you?" Sirius asked him.

There was a long pause before I heard James clumsy reply, "She's...great, really, she is. But...when we were on the plane, she just seemed so immatu...I just don't know if...I'm not entirely positive I _can_ trust her."

"But, you just said Frank-,"

"Frank went to school with her for a year. And that was a while ago; they weren't in the same year, and he really only knew her through Alice. How much can he really know about her?"

I pulled back, wiping my eyes briefly. I shouldn't have eavesdropped in the first place, and now I wish I hadn't. My emotions bested me, so I rushed away from their door lest they open it and catch me with tears overflowing down my cheeks.

Luckily, I found my room with ease. And when I shut my door- rather harshly- I broke down into hurt and angry sobs, my back slowly sliding down the length of the door until I sat leaned up against it. Who did he think he wa... wait, that'd be a stupid question, seeing as how I just spent a few minutes with my ear pressed up against a door to achieve that information.

The fact that he was James Potter made this much worse.

I had fallen fast, and fallen hard for him. And the quicker the fall, the more painful the outcome usually is.

He was famous; he was a rock star. I couldn't date a rock star? Who the hell was I? _He_ was _James Potter_, and I was just some lovestruck girl, awed by the mere presence of four guys. Four guys who apparently didn't see me as I saw them.

He couldn't trust me. Well, fine. I'd only been polite all of yesterday; been on my best behavior. I never gave him any indication that I would betray _any _of them. I was a bloody saint yesterday; I could have shouted to anyone who would listen who they were, but did I? No. And not just for my own selfish purposes. I really did like these guys, and I couldn't imagine intentionally hurting them.

With an indignant huff, I stood up and angrily made my way to my luggage. In a matter of seconds, they were tucked safely away in my pocket. I put my wand back in there right beside my suitcases before quietly exiting the room again.

It was time to see my dad and get the hell out of here. If I couldn't find the floo powder around this bloody mansion, then to hell with my fear of apparation. I'd do just about anything to sneak away, because if I came face to face with Ji- no, _James_- I don't know what I'd do. Kiss him mad, or slam my fist across his beautiful face. Immature, my ass.

I wandered around for a few minutes, finally finding the staircase I hadn't been able to find earlier that morning. As I quietly descended, I heard the loud, rambunctious voices of the band laughing somewhere on that floor. I cringed slightly, my eyes darting around the foyer I just walked into. They were in the kitchen, I assessed, or at least the dining room. Laughing at me? Jerks.

Gingerly, I slipped in to the room we had, not twelve hours ago, bonded in front of the diminishing fire. With a disappointed sigh, I found the floo powder and made ready to leave the Grape Vine. At least I wouldn't have to apparate.

After lighting a fire, I sprinkled the powder on to it, watching the flames turn green. My dad's house wasn't connected to the floo network, unsurprisingly as he was a muggle. One of his neighbors, however, was a wizard- Mr. Julian Walters. I met him back when my dad first moved to the States, and had occasionally visited the graying wizard during the summers; mostly for homework help, as I was horrid in the subject of Transfiguration. Since finishing Hogwarts, however, I hadn't seen Mr. Walters...until today, I guess. His house _was_ connected, and I was certain he wouldn't mind me dropping in. Knowing his kind nature, Mr. Walters would probably insist I sit for a cup of tea.

Stepping in to the fire, I turned mumbled my intended destination. At that exact moment, James turned the corner, walking in to the room and meeting my gaze instantly.

I'd never experienced a slow-motion moment before that minute.

Slowly, I watched James' eyes flicker through many emotions: confusion, astonishment, worry. Slowly, my lips quirked upward, wryly, sadly, before whispering to myself, "James..."

When James' eyebrows shot up, I knew he had heard me. And when his features softened into an expression of saddened realization, I knew he understood what was going on.

Slowly, the flames engulfed me.

And then, quickly, I was gone.

* * *

Mr. Julian Walters passed away on a beautiful June afternoon, peacefully; he passed in his sleep. It was a comfort to know none of the evils of reality had anything to do with his demise. But, it didn't stop my heart to break slightly when- in her moment of shock of watching me stumble from his living room fireplace- Mr. Walters' granddaughter informed me of the event that happened a little over a year ago.

She was compassionate that afternoon, and invited me to sit and talk over a cup of coffee- not tea, but her hospitality was concrete proof that she was definitely his granddaughter. Not entirely ready to face my father, I had accepted her invitation.

I had no qualms with Dad, but some part of me knew that the moment I saw him, and put my luggage away in my room, then the fantasy I had lived yesterday would be completely over. And I wasn't ready for that yet.

We talked for nearly two hours- mostly about Mr. Walters- some about our careers and what have you. It eased some of the stress the morning had placed on me. I hadn't confided in her about the ordeal, but something about our conversation triggered my common sense back into place. I knew, walking out of her home (wrapping my jacket tighter around my body to protect myself from the cold air), that I had acted in a rash fashion. The part of me that had been blinded by my anger gained insight, and I found myself empathizing with James Potter and understanding his actions. Put myself in his shoes, if you will.

While I wasn't pleased about that almost-slip of being "immature", I could see why he revealed his identity; if it had been me, I probably would have done the same thing. There was...something between us. A chemistry of some sort. I obviously liked him. Oh, who was I kidding? I was head-over-heels for him. And, it seemed like he liked me, too.

If I had known who he really was straight off, he'd probably have wondered if I was really infatuated with James Potter the person, or James Potter the bassist. As it were, I fell for Jim.

It was snowing that day in Chicago; my footsteps were crunchy on the sidewalk I trailed down. My dad's house was four down from Mr. Walter's granddaughter, and the cold air motivated me to quicken my pace until I soon came to the front door.

Knocking twice, I walked in, stomping my feet on the rug as I did so.

"Daddy?" I called out, shaking the flakes of snow out of my hair. I hadn't spoken to him since yesterday morning, and knowing him, he'd be half bald from tearing his hair out with worry.

On cue, an anxious voice responded, "Lily?" Seconds later, the familiar brown hair and broad frame appeared around a corner.

His warm gaze brought a quick, genuine smile to my face. "Dad!" I screeched, rushing over to be enveloped into his willing arms. Feeling him press a kiss in my hair, I inhaled heartily, taking in his welcoming scent.

"I was so worried, pumpkin," he admitted, running a hand through his hair after I pulled away. "Why didn't you call?"

"I did call; you really need to get an answering machine or something," I responded pointedly.

"Nonsense- just a waste of money."

"Daddy, it really would have been useful yesterday," I sighed, already knowing his stubborn nature.

"Well," he clapped his hands together- a sign that the subject was to be dropped. "In any case, I'm glad you made it." His eyes began to dart around the entryway. "Where's your luggage?"

I wordlessly patted the side of my pocket.

"Ah." His laugh was booming, an arm sliding around my shoulder in a half-hug. "Remember where your room is?"

"Of course."

"Well, hurry along and unpack; we'll have lunch afterwards." With that, we parted ways.

* * *

An hour later found Dad and I sitting in a somewhat fancy restaurant. I had changed into something nicer, a fact I was glad about after seeing the dining area full of formal wear. Waiters and waitresses in black and white attire flitted easily with grace around the bright, open room, trays of delicious-smelling food resting on their open palms.

I ordered a filling meal, my mouth watering at the thought of food- I hadn't eaten since yesterday evening with the band (even if the amount I consumed had churned my stomach). My dad had been shocked when I ordered two separate dishes, but quickly recovered and asked the waiter to bring him the same; my heart swelled at that, my eyes a little bit misty. Dad was always doing stuff like that, always conscious of my feelings. I had really missed him- a realization that had just struck out of the blue when I dug in to my chicken.

"I'm glad I'm here." My mouth was full, and it was a disgusting act on my part, but for some reason, I wanted to let him know as soon as I thought it.

He glanced up from his food, the sunlight catching every new wrinkle I hadn't noticed on his face. His hair was peppered with gray, and I frowned slightly upon that observation. I should really visit him more often...and vice versa.

"I'm glad you're here, too, Lily," he responded.

I smiled, then dug back in to my food.

"That said..." I hesitated, wanting to be as tactful as possible when asking my next question. "Um...I was just curious...what brought this on? I mean, well, I guess I'm kind of expecting you to spring some news on me."

Dad nodded, wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin. "There was actually a reason I invited you-"

"Are you seeing someone?" I quickly asked, my mouth tightening. It was childish, so childish, but I wouldn't take that news well at all.

He sighed exasperatedly...probably because we've had this discussion at leave five times every time we saw each other. "No, Lily. Though, if I was, I'd expect you to be an adult and just accept it."

"Oh, of course," I smiled, a bit too wide for his liking, apparently, from the way his eyes narrowed slightly. "Anyways...continue?"

"There was a reason I invited you," he repeated after a few beats, still shooting me disapproving glances. "However, I want to wait until Petunia gets off work to tell you both together."

I stifled a disappointed groan. I had so hoped to make it through his vacation unscathed. Petunia had been a good sport in our hate/hate relationship when she made the decision to follow Dad to the States after the divorce was finalized. She hated our mom, but she hated me more, so when the option came of ridding us both from her life, it was an offer she just wouldn't refuse.

I hadn't seen my detestable sister in five years, and I had hoped to make it another five- better yet, ninety. Dad knew of our intolerance for one another, and was obviously still under the naïve illusion that this was something we'd eventually grow out of. Not bloody likely.

"Wonderful," I indulged him for the time being, my smile as fake as ever. To avoid further conversation, I pushed two heaping spoonfuls of food into my mouth.

Dad kept shooting me glances every now and then. "You know, you two will eventually have to get over this petty feud."

I almost choked. "P-petty feud?" I swallowed and ran an indignant hand through my hair. "Dad, she called me a bitc...she called me some truly horrid things before she left with you. _Screamed_ them, actually. Outside. On our front lawn. Dad, she nearly exposed me as a witch!" If I hadn't lowered my tone to a strangled whisper, I would have exposed myself as a witch.

"That was five years ago, Lily," Dad said with a sigh. "Five years is an awful long time to hold grudges, especially between family."

_'And when exactly was the last time you spoke to Mom?' _It took me a lot of effort to bite back that sarcastic remark, instead wallowing in the silence that had settled over us.

"Would you like a refill, Miss?"

I looked up, shaking my head at the waiter. I'd lost my appetite a while back at the beginning of the family-talk. Now, I just wanted to go to Dad's house and take a rather long bubble bath...unconsciously, that thought relaxed my shoulders and softened my features. If there was anything that could calm my nerves, it was an old-fashioned, simple bubble bath.

"Are you ready to leave?" my dad asked, wiping his mouth with his own napkin. I took a second to glance at his empty plate before nodding in affirmative. He nodded back, paid the bill, and soon we were back at his home.

Discarding my coat, I shook the excessive snowflakes from my hair. Dad had wondered into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee, his offering of which I declined, not wanting the caffeine. I sighed and made my way into the living room. Being who he was, my dad wasn't one for much décor, so the basic furnishings were the only things present in my view, save for some framed pictures and some sports magazines strewed across his coffee table.

I reached for and grabbed the remote controller for his television set. But, before I could flip it on, my ears perked to the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed soon after by the stomping of feet against the floor mat, and finally...

"Dad! What's this about, now?"

My blood ran cold- _she _was here.

"I've told Vernon I would meet him for dinner in an hour, so..."

There she was, looking much like a horse if I ever did spot one. Oh, sure, if you really tried to find some beauty in her face, you might be a little successful. She was a little pretty, and it might have even been recognizable to the human eye if she'd loosen her muscles from permanently scowling and settling on some sort of amiable expression.

Godric, her eyes were just as cold as I left them five years ago. Only, in addition to being cold, they now appeared shocked. She looked far more surprised at my presence than I was at hers. That thought brought me a certain degree of smugness, and I gladly let a satisfied smirk shine through.

"Petunia, darling!" I gushed, a sharp glint in my eye to inform her that I was being sarcastic as hell. My smirk widened and my eyebrows rose delightedly as her skin became stark white. "It's been ages. Oh-" I brought a hand up to be placed delicately over my mouth, "dear, do consider night cream, yes?"

She was quivering, her eyes startling wild. "F-freak," she stammered in a whisper. I relished in my upper-hand, for it was clear that Dad hadn't told Petunia about my arrival. "What are you _doing here_!" she hissed, finally regaining some of her wits.

I opened my mouth to retort, but my dad walked in from the kitchen, beaming at Petunia. "Hello, dear," he greeted warmly- he obviously hadn't heard my scathing greeting, nor her short reply. Hugging her quickly, he guided her over to the couch, across from the chair I was seated in.

We never broke eye contact, even during their hug. Daggers met daggers as each of us silently cursed death wishes toward one another. However, we remained looking relaxed, comfortable even. I crossed my legs and tapped my fingers against the arm rests of the chairs casually, my smirk softening to a small lopsided smile (though the smirk was still hidden there somewhere, directed straight at Petunia).

Petunia, in turn, gracefully allowed Dad to guide her over to the chair and she sat delicately, always one for prim and properness. Her face was swept clean of the hate and malice, the color returning to her cheeks. Smoothing the wrinkles of her polka-dotted dress, she hooked her ankles together and folded her hands in her lap. If Dad and I hadn't known her so well, her stiff posture would have been misinterpreted as tenseness and anxiety; however, that was just Petunia's posture.

The only clue that might have given our anger away was our eyes, narrowed ever-so-slightly, murderously imagining the other writhing in agony.

Ah, sisterhood.

Dad clapped his hands together once, seemingly beside himself at the sight of both his daughters before him. I could tell he was pleased that neither of us had insulted each other- to his knowledge.

"Well, I suppose you're both wondering why I asked you here. Petunia, you yourself must have had quite a shock, seeing Lily here and all." He smiled again towards her; she managed her own sour smile in return, nodding her head very briefly.

"Then I won't keep you waiting any longer."

* * *

A/N: A rather odd place to stop, but you know me and cliffhangers. Sorry about the lack of the marauders in this chapter. They'll be back soon, I promise. I noticed Lily was a little different in this chapter, but remember that up until a few chapters ago, it had really only been the span of one day for her- a day pretty much like a dream to her. Reality kind of struck, and let's just say she's only human and, as we all know, a little emotional. She will come around soon, too, don't worry. She was quite overwhelmed at the revelation, that's all.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. And thank you for all the feedback on this story; I do appreciate it.


	15. The Sister

He was searching for something. First, he scooped all materials from his trouser pockets, then he checked the pocket sewn into the left breast of his button-up shirt. Both to no avail. Scratching his left temple, he stood there, looking thoughtful. Petunia's rigid posture was gradually relaxing as she leaned comfortably back; I found myself digging my body deeper into the cushions of my seat. In a rare bout of mutual understanding, we kept our mouths shut, both knowing our absentminded father's tendencies. He had something to tell us, and apparently he had lost a few props for the story. Now, he'd make us wait until he was ready. We both knew enough to get comfortable.

"Blast," I heard him mutter vaguely, checking the top of the mantle. "Only be a moment, girls," he said a little louder. Petunia pulled out a file and went to town on her already perfect nails.

I yawned and eyed the remote control lying a few feet away. No, it'd probably be rude to turn the television on. Fortunately, my dogeared magazine was right next to the remote. I picked it up and read an article or two.

I'd purposely skipped the pages I had marked, knowing I wouldn't handle reading articles of Black Magic too well. I still wasn't sure how I felt about yesterday, knowing what I knew today. And now really wasn't the time to muse about it, what with Petunia shooting me icy glares- charming- and Dad now turning the living room inside out for Godric knows what.

Oh, good heavens.

"Dad, why don't you tell me what it is you're looking for," I finally offered, my hand reaching into my enlarged jean pocket and pulling my wand. "I can just-"

"PUT THAT DEMONIC STICK OF ABNORMALITY AWAY!" Petunia suddenly belted out in a loud screeched. I flinched at the unpleasant sound, and noticed my dad echo my actions. She was on her feet in an instant, quivering once more. "I swear I'll-"

"Merlin's beard," I murmured exasperatedly, cutting her feeble whimper off and pocketing my wand. Rolling my eyes, I regarded Petunia coldly, "Shall I call an exorcist?"

"For you, you...you _freak_?" she questioned, rather quickly.

I jumped up, ready and more than willing to defend myself and put Petunia in her place. "No, for you! You're completely mental, you know that, Petunia?" My voice rose, my tone sharpening with each passing word. "Oh, you should have been placed in a strait jacket _long _ago: 'Freak this, and freak that. Such a worthless freak, that Lily is, but the fact that she made it into Hogwarts while I've contented to live my life engaged to a giant purple _whale_-'"

"-Vernon isn't a whale! He's mildly big-boned, I'll have you know!"

"Yeah, and I'm Salazar Slytherin!"

We both paused, our chests heaving, our eyes bright and wild and glaring across the shiny coffee table with a while, delicate doily in the center.

"..._Who_!?" Petunia finally shouted, looking as though she may pull away at her hair.

Damn it, that would have made a brilliant comeback with nearly anyone else I knew. "Nevermind," I sighed and flopped back to my seat dramatically. Petunia cautiously sat back down as well, her back rigid once more. Dad stared down at both of us disapprovingly, but he didn't say what was on his mind. No words were needed after living through infinite fights much worse than that argument I'd just participated in. We were sisters, torn apart by animosity, never to forgive, least of all forget, the many faults we found in each other. We simply couldn't stand to be near each other. And nothing would change that.

"I found what I was looking for," Dad supplied, bringing his hand around from his back to reveal his secret. "Black Magic tickets."

I blinked. Petunia gasped. Dad grinned.

Tickets. To see Black Magic. Yesterday, I would have given both arms and my kneecaps for this chance. My dad placed them on the coffee table, my eyes following the white papers avidly. I gnawed on my lip, sneaking a glance back up at him. He seemed so pleased, so happy. Then, there was Petunia. She was eying them as well, licking her lips eagerly.

"Black Magic?" I repeated weakly, straining to keep a smile on my face. I didn't want to go, really.

My dad's head bobbed up and down, and his hands casually settled in his pants' pocket. "It was a rather large coincidence. After you rang me and told me you'd missed their concert, my heart broke; I'd never heard you in tears before. But just that next day, I found out their next concert was schedule right here, so I wasted no time to purchase some tickets. Nearly fought a man in line, I did," he added, proudly.

Blast it all. I couldn't disappoint him; not when he looked so happy. If I told him I didn't want to go anymore, he'd be crushed. The fact that he lived so far from me saddened him, and I really do think he feels guilty about leaving me behind while he took Petunia during his divorce.

But, _two_ tickets? Meaning I'd be going alone with Petunia. To a concert I no longer had a strong desire to see. Could I possibly endure hours of her whining about Hogwarts and my abilities? The twinkle in my dad's eye informed me quite firmly that I could, and I would.

I strengthened my smile and said in what I hoped was an earnest tone, "Gosh, Dad, that's great!" I jumped up and gave him a strong hug. "Thanks," I whispered.

"I can't believe it. Black Magic!" Petunia exclaimed, picking up the tickets to look them over. She gasped for a second time. "Third row? Oh, Daddy!"

I briefly considered ruining Petunia's mood by informing her that her favorite band consisted of four wizards, but I held my tongue. My self-restraint was inspiring.

"You're welcome," my dad replied as I pulled back.

"When is it?" I asked Petunia, who looked down for the information.

"Tomorrow night," she answered, amiable for once in her life. "At eight o'clock."

I nodded, holding back a grimace. Third row, she said? I doubt any of those guys would recognize me, with thousands of other screaming fans all competing for their attention.

Despite myself, I couldn't help but be just a little bit excited. I did, after all, love their music. Tomorrow night could be just the thing to perk up my trip, ironic as it may seem considering what stifled it in the first place.

"So, can you two put aside your differences?" he asked, almost warningly. Petunia's eyes darted to me, and I met her gaze silently for a few beats.

Finally, I replied, "I can be civil."

I quirked an eyebrow and waited for her to make her decision. She seemed rather torn, her glances jumping between regarding me, and looking down longingly at the two tickets. She sniffed sharply and gave her own stiff reply, "As can I." Her lips were pursed.

My dad beamed.

* * *

It was seven o'clock, and I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, putting the finishing touches of makeup on my face. At first, I had wanted to dress as plain and subdued as possible, for fear of any one of the four- or perhaps the few others like Frank or...Jim or James or _whatever_ the blond man's name was- recognizing and confronting me over my sudden disappearing act. However, the "what if" thoughts had plagued my mind soon after and I began thinking of the possibility of actually running into James- unlikely as that may be. But if I did, I wanted to look...nice. Yes, nice. Nice, but still somewhat subdued, in a black, casual, short-sleeved and knee-length dress.

Finishing up my makeup, and fixing a single curl on the side of my face, and critically observed myself. Was the dress too much? It wasn't fancy in the least, but it was still a dress. Not too many people probably wore a dress to a concert. But, it was quite comfortable. I nodded at myself. Yes, I was ready.

As confidently as I could, I walked out of the bathroom and into the living room. My dad was sitting on the couch, his eyes fixated on the television until I fell into his peripheral vision. He smiled up at me, "You look lovely, Lily."

"Thanks," I grinned.

After a quick glance out the window, he said, "Petunia should be here any minute. Oh, and here's the tickets." I walked over and took them from his hand.

Deciding to watch the T.V. with him until it was time to leave, I took a seat next to him and sighed. Too lost in my thoughts, I didn't realize he was staring at me until he spoke again, muting the television. "Anything on your mind, Princess?"

I blinked innocently. "Not really...why?"

He shrugged. "You just seem...preoccupied, you know, since you arrived."

"I'm fine," I quickly answered, forcing a smile. Dad opened his mouth, but the door opened and Petunia appeared.

"Well then, come on," she said briskly, adding as an afterthought, "Hullo Dad."

He and I exchanged quick glances, both having taken in the loud, bright orange dress she was wearing, accompanied with a lime green shawl and matching handbag. There goes my plans for blending in that night. Petunia could be spotted across the Atlantic wearing that. With her sitting next to me, the odds of someone spotting me rose dramatically.

"_Lily! Let's go!_" Petunia hissed sharply, finally catching my attention again. I rubbed my eyes and stood.

"Yeah, alright," I murmured. "Petunia, would you like to borrow a coat. I have another..."

"No, Lily," she said slowly, as though I were stupid. She fingered her shawl- as if I could overlook that.

"But, are you sure that's warm enough?" I offered hopefully, pulling on my own coat.

"It's fine," she snapped, opening the front door. "Thanks for the tickets, Dad- you've got them, don't you, Lily?"

"Yes, right here."

"Good. Bye, Dad!"

"Bye, Dad," I echoed, giving him a warm smile. He waved, turning back to the T.V, ordering us to have a good time.

The second I shut the door of Petunia's car, she rounded on me. "Listen, I don't like this arrangement. If it were up to me, I'd have given your ticket to Vernon. So, here's how we're going to handle this. You're not to open your mouth once- not _once_- on the way there, during the performance, nor on the way home. Say a single word, and you're not getting a ride back."

My lip curled. "Well, that's dumb. What if my wand starts shooting sparks or something?" I pulled it out casually, but the threat was obvious.

She shook with anger. "_No_."

I blinked. "No, what?"

"No magic. Absolutely none. I'm doing you a favor taking you-"

"As though Dad would really let you have a ticket otherwise-"

"-so leave the hocus pocus nonsense out of this."

"I'll strike a deal with you, Petunia," I pulled my seatbelt on. "I won't perform magic at all tonight if you simply wear my coat- throughout the _entire_ night." It was black; at least it'd cover up her hideous clothing.

She began driving and stole a look down at her clothes. "Do you have a problem with my dress?" she asked, miffed.

"Do we have a deal?" I pushed.

She pursed her lips, "Fine."

* * *

I made it to my seat after a struggle through simpering and giggly fans, having lost Petunia somewhere amongst a large crowd. I wasn't too concerned; she had her own ticket, so she knew where our seats were.

Checking my watch, I battled with the butterflies that had somehow formed in my stomach the second I stepped foot into the large theater. Five minutes before it was due to start. I fidgeted in my seat, trying ignore my apprehension in favor of observing random people. Most of the crowd seemed to be younger- teenagers and twenty-something-year-olds. The group that sat in front of me consisted of some younger teenagers, tossing small balls of paper at one another playfully, quite energetic. I didn't blame them; if I were in their shoes, I'd be doing the same thing. This was a Black Magic concert, after all; nearly everyone was hyped up with adrenaline. It was contagious.

In fact, by the time the lights dimmed and Petunia had finally sat down, I had a large smile on my face, the butterflies fluttering as fiercely as ever.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's rather short. I thought it'd be a good place to stop, though. And, I'm really sorry the Marauders weren't in this chapter, either. Next one, I promise, and it'll be good, too; I can't wait to write it! 


	16. The Concert

When the floor lights dimmed, beams of softer, colorful light danced around energetically, spreading that exuberant feeling to every member in the room, each one anxiously awaiting the start of the night's performance. Amidst the upbeat, background music, the tech crew meandered across the stage with handfuls of wires and cords, setting up quickly and efficiently. I was slouching in my cushioned seat, having recognized a few of them- Frank Longbottom, in particular. Black Magic had kept their identity a secret in both the magic and muggle world, and because of the muggles, I didn't notice a single wand. The Ministry strictly enforced the law that not a single bit of magic was to be done at any muggle/wizard concert- a law passed just months after Black Magic surfaced and became popular.

"Check." My eyes traveled up to the man standing in front of the microphone, and I shoved a hand up to cover most of my face. I'd know those dreadlocks, and that nose ring anywhere: Martin, the guy who handled my luggage at the Grape Vine.

"Don't look, don't look, don't look..." I repeated my mantra in a strange hiss/whisper, unaware that I'd caught Petunia's attention until my elder sister's beady eyes sized me up and down and she opened her mouth.

"What are you doing?!" she snapped.

I glanced up sheepishly, but my eyes quickly narrowed. "Where's my coat? Why aren't you wearing my coat? We had a deal. Where is it?" I swear to God, if I'm exposed to Jim- _James-_ because of _Petunia's dress_, I'm going to murder her in cold blood. Sister or not, she'd die before the night was through.

She straightened haughtily, then replied in a very flippant tone, "Sorry to say I lost it among the crowd."

I gaped. "You can't just lose a _coat _in a crowd, Petunia. What happened to it? It's a rather nice coat, and I've grown quite attached to it-"

"_I don't know_, Lily," she sighed and rolled her eyes, as though my inquiries about my own coat were a nuisance. "Now, shut up."

"_HEY, I_-" My rant was cut off when I caught sight of Frank handling something electronic as he strode across the stage to Peter's keyboard. I ducked my head and began my mantra again.

"What the hell are you doing, Lily?" repeated Petunia suspiciously. "It's not some freaky spell, is it, because we were in agreement that-"

"Yes, that you'd wear my coat, but obviously we're past that point, now aren't we?" I snarled,but then quickly regained composure as a few heads turned our way. I jumped when Frank turned back around, suddenly wishing I'd thought to dye my eye-catching hair that night.

Oh, this was getting ridiculous. Ten minutes in my seat and I'd already had two panic attacks. What in Merlin's name was I planning on doing when Black Magic actually began? They'd obviously be staring out at us- granted, hundreds of blinding lights would be pointed straight at their eyes, but were those lights any match for Petunia's dress . . .?

"Shut up; they're starting," snipped Petunia . I frowned. '_Shut up_'? I hadn't been talking, but I decided to let it go and not challenge her stupidity.

My heart skipped a beat, and any thought of hiding my face from view fled from my mind. There he was. James.

. . .What a minute.

What were they thinking?!

All four of them were on stage, with their instruments, adjusting microphones, _without_ disguising charms. Blue, gray, brown. . .Merlin, their eyes are in plain view! Sirius' shaggy hair; Remus' frail frame; Peter's squishy cheeks; James' kissable lips; Exposed!

"Are they insane?" I asked myself, my voice quiet and tinged with wonder. The noisy crowd drowned out my question. I stole glances behind me, to the right and to the left of me, all around, everywhere. No one seemed confused at their altered appearance. But, why not? Everyone in the crowd should have been wondering why Black Magic suddenly had taken on the appearance of four, handsome young men, rather than cover their faces with stage makeup. People should have taken notice of the fact that Peter had put on a few pounds- for, in his disguised form, he was skinnier than Remus. No one had noticed that James was wearing glasses, because never before tonight had he ever worn frames.

Remus began the first song with a short solo on his drumset; the crowd quieted down so fast that for a moment I suspected silencing charms were used- but the Ministry's restriction voided my theory. Splashes of light poured across the stage, in sync with each beat of the drums.

Peter chimed in smoothly with the piano, accompanied by Sirius' entrancing voice. James strummed a few chords of his bass, and both he and Peter murmured background lyrics into their microphones. They started their concert off with one of their lesser-known songs, but any true fan knew even this song by heart. I actually found myself murmuring along with James and Peter, and couldn't for the life of me keep a goofy smile off my face. All hurt feelings were brushed aside as I let myself get lost in their magic. . .

Almost an hour later, and I still hadn't been noticed. It was a good sign. And _Whirling Serenade_ had just started. My breath hitched and I, like the rest of the audience, hopped up to my feet and screamed happily. It was one of their most popular songs, and my favorite. The screaming was a great release; over the course of two days, it felt like the tension was just building up, and I'd finally had a chance to let it go. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, feeling more relaxed than ever.

While we were standing, I had a stronger sense of security. If one of the four should happen to look my way, I could hunch down hide myself easier behind screaming fans.

Wait . . . did he. . .

. . . Yeah, I just caught Sirius' eye.

I hurled myself to the ground under the pretense of tying my shoe. Everyone was too distracted to pay me any mind. I just stayed there for a moment, staring absently at a wad of gum a few inches away from my left foot. Did he see me? Maybe he couldn't; I'd been on stage during plenty of elementary school plays and I could never see a thing with all those lights shining directly at me. He couldn't have actually seen me. Yeah.

I slowly regained my courage and stood, licking my lips gingerly. Taking a deep breath, I forced my eyes back up to the stage. Ah, so far, so good. Sirius wasn't looking over at me. It was just a fluke.

I couldn't hold back the gasp that tore through my lips when he looked over again, this time with a sense of purpose. I froze, unable or unwilling to move. He just kept playing his guitar, leaning slightly to sing with ease into his microphone. A ghost of a smirk was on his face as he sang the sexy lyrics. I had no idea what he was thinking. With the way he held my gaze, he seemed rather amused. Could he see how nervous I was? If he could, then I hope he could also see the desperation in my eyes- the nonverbal plea for him to keep my presence a secret from at least James. They had to have realized why I left; that I found out about James, and overhead what was said. Maybe I overreacted, and maybe that was the reason I didn't want them to know I was here. I felt humiliated, and so stupid, and. . .completely unsure of how I'd even begin to act around James Potter.

Suddenly, he broke our connection and glanced over at James. I could have jumped on stage right then and there to strangle the life out of Sirius Black, but I doubt that'd go over too well with his fans. He successfully gained James' attention, and then- I gritted my teeth- jerked his head out towards the crowd, towards me. James, with his brows furrowed and his fingers continuously strumming, looked out for anything significant.

I panicked.

"I'll be in the lavatory. . .er, I want a soda. . .maybe some air," I literally shoved Petunia out of my way. "Or. . .something. Yeah, bye." And I fled away from sight.

After about fifteen minutes of stalking around the lobby- which consisted of large halls leading in several different directions- I decided that I actually was a little thirsty, so I meandered over to the refreshment stands and bought a soda. I grabbed a straw and took a sip, using the slowest pace imaginable to reach the theater again. I glanced around, peering nonchalantly at the scattered people who didn't have seats while I chewed nervously on my straw. There were a few smaller groups standing or leaning against walls, joking and laughing and enjoying the music. One of the groups, an assortment of four guys, I'd passed off as wizards. What reason did I have? It could have been the very traditional, very old-fashioned long, platinum blond hair of one of them that gave me the tip off; or maybe it was odd pieces of clothing adorning each one of them that no muggle would have been caught dead wearing; but, if I were completely honest with myself, I know it had to have been the wand gripped none-too-inconspicuously by a beefy, muscled individual staring confusedly around, as though wondering where the music was coming from. One of the blokes looked vaguely familiar, but I was certain I had never seen him before. Black hair, gray eyes, younger than the rest of them, he was speaking with last guy, who was standing in the shadows, making it rather difficult to discern his features.

The blond one looked my way and smirked a little too arrogantly for my taste, so I quickly looked away before he decided to do anything else but look. Checking my watch, I sighed and resignedly decided to head back in and literally face the music, dropping my empty cup in the trash. Enough time had gone by, and I was hoping neither Sirius nor James would continue to try and find me in the audience.

Petunia didn't spare me a glance as I skimmed across her to my seat. In my absence, James had traded his bass for a guitar, and Sirius had abandoned instruments completely to focus on one of their upbeat, and most recent, numbers. And, before taking in all that, I realized why Petunia hadn't made any snide comments about my sudden disappearance. Both Sirius Black, and James Potter were shirtless. The temperature suddenly raised drastically. Blood rushed up to my face, and time stopped. Murmuring an unintelligent "mnaah", my jaw dropped very slowly, my head tilted in adoration, and my eyes kept a dark, lusting gaze focused on James. No one could possibly appreciate the fullness of this situation, for no one but me saw their real appearance. They weren't able to take in the perfect torso, with glistening abs and pecs, of the one and only James Potter. Sirius was nice, too, but each time my eyes wandered, they snapped almost instantly back to James like a rubber band. For a brief moment, I wished I hadn't left to get a refreshment.

The song ended, and I reluctantly brought myself back to reality. It just wasn't meant to be with James. He didn't trust me- but really, I grudgingly admitted, what celebrity instantly trusts someone in the span of a few hours- and even if he would have, leaving like I did at the Grape Vine did nothing to help my chances. Odds were he hated me. Or just extremely disliked me.

"Alright, kids," said Sirius with a roguish grin, his eyes glinting to the audience. "That's it for us tonight." Loud, appreciative cheers exploded. Shouts of "Encore!" echoed throughout the large hall, but the band simple waved- Remus lazily twirling his drumsticks impressively before tossing them out randomly to a few teens in the fifth row- and ran off stage. Then, after a few seconds, Sirius came back on, still waving and grinning like mad, now wearing a simple t-shirt.

Seizing a microphone, he crooned into it rather sexily, "And now, we'd like to invite you all to stick around for a brand new, and bloody brilliant, group-" he shot his arm out to his side, "-the Bludger Brigade!"

I quirked an eyebrow, and smile at the name. Petunia finally looked over at me. "Ready to leave?" she said, her excitement gradually dwindling until she was back to the same old, uptight Petunia. She wasn't waiting for a response, already up to her feet and clutching her purse. I grimaced at the full view of her dress and looked away, watching the new band set up.

"I think I want to see how this band is," I answered, smiling gleefully when I noticed how her shoulders stiffened.

She lowered her voice, so as not draw attention to herself- though it was safe to say she'd received probably as much as Black Magic with her dress. "Let me elaborate. I'm leaving now. With or without you."

I decided to live dangerously. "Right then. Run along," I called her bluff, turning back to watch them set up their own equipment. She wouldn't leave without me. What would our father have to say if she did? No, she'd just have to wait until I was good and ready and. . .

Huh?

Where was she?

"Bleeding hell," I breathed, leaning forward in my seat and craning my head to look down each side of the isle. She _left._

Muttering obscenities, I seized my purse viciously and stalked away from my seat. Wonderful, I had no coat, and no driver in sight. If I had to walk home, I'd freeze. Actually. . .I was in Chicago, so I probably wouldn't be walking home. A cab or a bus would probably suffice for my ride. But, honestly! I came with Petunia, so I should leave with the bitch.

Still muttering, I rammed shoulders with a few passersby while searching my purse to see how much muggle money I actually had on me. A few galleons and knuts. . .oh, okay, my dad must have slipped me some extra cash because my fingers grazed the crisp edges of two five-dollar bills. I don't think that would get me home.

I walked to the area I'd passed by with my soda, where that group of wizards had been standing. They were out of sight, probably lost among the growing crowds. Dancing had started up between some hyper people, making the concert's atmosphere turn in to some sort of rave with the louder, more aggressive music of the Bludger Brigade. They weren't even close to being as good as Black Magic, and after a few minutes of hearing their first fierce song, a headache was beginning for form and I suddenly had a strong desire just to leave.

Breathing sharply out my nose in annoyance to Petunia, I strode towards one of the exits, clutching my purse tightly. I'd check the ladies' room, but if she wasn't there, I was going to call a cab- my dad would pay the difference when I got home.

No one had seemed to have the same idea of leaving like Petunia had, for the lobby was completely empty. I wagered everyone stayed to try out this new band.

Shoving my way into a restroom, I called out loudly, "Petunia." Waiting a few minutes, I heard no reply. Just in case, I decided to check underneath the stalls. No one was in there. An exasperated noise erupted in the back of my throat, and I wheeled around on my heel, stumbling a little as I did so.

Beyond the front doors of the building, specks of pure white caught the beams of streetlights, which all illuminated the snow covered ground. I cradled my arms in front of me and frowned. The ride to my dad's house would be a right nasty trip to make without a coat.

Indecisively, my feet led me away from the glass doors. I was stalling, hoping that Petunia would magically show up right behind me and call me a freak.

A strange muffled sound caused me to pause and listen. My eyebrows constricted as I concentrated. It sounded like struggling. Where could it be coming from, though? No one was further down the hall, nor was there a person on the few staircases I could see. There was a corner a few meters away from me, so- summoning my Gryffindor bravery- I held my purse even tighter and slowly crept up to the edge of the wall. I pressed myself against it, shamelessly having a go at eavesdropping. Nothing was being said, but I did hear a feminine mewling sound and a shuffle of some sort. I licked my lips anxiously and pulled out my wand (I'd charmed a small, inconspicuous pocket in my dress).

Then, I heard, ". . .makes it just too easy . . . no guards . . . think they'd expect . . ."

Hardening my gaze in frustration when a slightly louder female whimper sounded, I cautiously peaked my eyes around the corner. I started and took a few steps away from the wall, rather shocked. No one was there. I was so sure this was where the voices were coming from. It was a long stretch of empty flooring, a few benches shoved up against walls, a soda and candy machine plugged in on the wall on the opposite side from me. The walls, all made up of brick, sunk into archways randomly, doors hidden in the arches' shadows leading to rooms reserved for other events, none of which were taking place at that moment.

I knew I wasn't going crazy, but there was no one there and I was _still_ hearing voices- cold, hissing voices.

". . . _Shut up_ . . . pathetic muggle . . ."

My shoulders hunched and I cast a disbelieving, irritated look around the far-too-noisy emptiness. My wand was gripped softly at my side, forgotten. The shuffling sound was continuing persistently. One corner of my opened mouth lifted into a bemused smile.

". . . _nice dress_ . . ."

I whipped my head around, letting out a confused, breathy laugh and turning again. I was completely _alone_, hearing _voices_. I was . . .

I blinked, my eyes zoning in on a few fingers gripping the edge of an archway. An elbow appeared, then quickly disappeared behind an arch. The shuffling noise gained a bit of volume. I remembered my wand once more and, as stealthily as I could with hells on a hard floor, drew closer to the arch.

Coming up to the shadows, I peeked around and instantly straightened my back. The sight before me nauseated me on a few different levels. Petunia- her dress torn, held in place by two thick hands of a large man, her lips sealed together by magic. Two thoughts stood out in my mind. One: Someone is _attacking_ Petunia. Two: Someone is attacking _Petunia_. I was certain my complexion turned an ashy gray. It was sickening that someone could actually do this to another person, no less my wicked sister.

Nonetheless, I was quick to act. Raising my wand, I snapped, "Let her go."

The man stopped his evil murmurings to glare over at me, and Petunia breathed sharply through her nose, pleading to me for release with her eyes. He was obviously a wizard, for I heard him say the word, "muggle" a few seconds ago, and he stole a wary glance at my wand. He was in no position but to do what I said, as his wand was no where in sight. So, reluctantly, he let Petunia go. Quickly, I said the counter-curse for her mouth and tears in her dress.

"Petunia," I snapped, not taking my eyes off of the man, "get out of here."

She now breathed through her mouth, long, shaky breaths, as though she'd run a mile or more. Attempting to straighten her mussed hair, she said in a frightened whisper, "Lily, he. . . ."

"_Go_, Petunia," I urged harshly.

"What's. . .the rush?" asked a new, silky voice from behind me. Surprised, I twirled around .

The second I did, however, a lazy voice spoke out from a different direction, "Expelliarmus." My wand flew away from me to land deftly in the hand of a second newcomer. He was one of the wizards I'd spotted during the concert- the one that looked vaguely familiar. He couldn't have appeared more bored leaning against the wall, staring with deadened eyes at me, my wand already tucked away in some region of his clothes. I slowly turned to the other person, the one with the silky voice. He was the blond, the one who smirked at me. Now, it was more of a leer. Petunia's attacker stepped out of the shadows, regaining his confidence as the hands turned in his favor. 

My lips pursed. "You should all be perfectly aware that magic is strictly forbidden at Black Magic concerts . . . ." I trailed off, disheartened at the sharp laughs I had drew from the three. They each seemed to be closer than they were a few seconds. I looked over at Petunia. She had turned a sickening shade of green, taking nervous glances at each of the guys. For a brief moment, she and I exchanged helpless looks. It was odd; I had never felt as strongly connected to her as I did now. 

"Well done," I forced myself to say in a bored tone. I continued, hoping to tone down the potential danger with a voice that matched my mother's whenever she found me or Petunia doing something we knew we weren't suppose to. "What do you plan on doing? There are hundreds of people not but fifty feet away that could hear either of us scream for help." 

I had hoped to dissuade them, but it seemed as though I'd only given the blond an idea. 

"How thoughtful," he murmured, his accent undoubtedly British. He looked over to Petunia's attacker and simply said, "Goyle," as though that one word was an order. 

" _Cella Silencio_ ," the man I knew now to be Goyle said dumbly behind me. The dull sound of the Bludger Brigade was instantly silenced to our ears. I sighed in exasperation, whirling around and rolling my eyes at him. 

"You know he's just using you so that when you lot are all caught, you're the one that will be charged with performing magic in front of a muggle," I nodded at Petunia, who allowed herself a moment's confusion; she obviously didn't know how to take being called a 'muggle'. I glanced at the bored one and added, "You, too. You'll both be in serious trouble when this is over." 

He grinned in reply and I blinked. He looked _so_ familiar. "Do we look like we're worried about laws?" He, too, had a British accent, so did Goyle. 

"The Ministry's ordered the penalty a trip to Azkaban," I snapped snootily. That had to have put them in their place; who would want a sentencing to Azkaban? 

"Lily," whispered Petunia, fearful of angering them. 

The blond slowly blinked and sneered at me. "For knowing so much about rules and regulations, it's inspiring how little you actually know of the Ministry." 

"Don't suppose you've ever heard of the Malfoys?" another new voice asked, once again from behind. I stiffened and turned. The fourth in the group appeared, and Petunia and I were completely surrounded. He was the largest of all, and looked only slightly smarter than Goyle. 

The name 'Malfoy' churned my stomach. "The most prejudice of families," I replied coolly, staring straight into the blond's eye. "You must be Lucius." 

He bowed mockingly. 

"Isn't this concert a little below you, Malfoy?" I was acting incredibly daft, seeing as how each of their wands were visible and completely ready if need, or desire, be. And I was in the center, without a wand, with my sister now gripping my arm painfully and warningly. Even she appreciated the seriousness of this situation. But I wasn't a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, this was my first meeting with a Malfoy, and I was more than willing to defend my heritage, knowing how the Malfoys looked down on muggle-borns. 

"My dear," said Malfoy softly, "do, please, call me Lucius." I threw him a look of disgust. "As for our presence, well . . . .I could never pass up an opportunity to attend my soon-to-be cousin's performance. Isn't that right, Regulus?" 

"Cousin?" Petunia finally found a voice, a squeaky, small one. She was helping me stall. The longer time went on, the more ominous those wands were looking. But, if enough time passed, the Bludger Brigade would be finishing, and there was a chance a few people might wander the building before leaving and spot us here. 

"My brother," the bored one spoke up, lifting his gaze to bore lifelessly at us. "Sirius Black." 

I blinked. That answered his familiarity. He did look an awful lot like Sirius- albeit, a more callous, apathetic version. Any help I might have hoped for from him was quickly withering away with the cold look I received from him. 

"I fear the family resemblance ends just short of personality," I told him coldly. "You're nothing like him." 

No one seemed to notice my insinuation that I knew Sirius; they were far too busy laughing. Quite loudly. Unfortunately, that wouldn't draw anyone else's attention because of the silencing spell placed around us. 

I whirled around and snapped at Sirius' brother, "Give me my wand." 

"Rather not," he yawned. 

Lucius stepped forward and ran a slithering finger down my cheek. The mood took a sinister turn. I nervously slapped his hand away, fire burning in my eyes. "Let us go." 

He smiled, which quickly turned into a sneer. 

" _Let me go!_ " I turned and saw Goyle continuing with what I had put a stop a few minutes ago. Pushed up against the wall, Petunia struggled fruitlessly against invisible binds, angry tears in her eyes. I jumped into action, pushing Goyle with all my might, but he was far too large and merely shoved his hand to my face thrusting me completely away into Lucius' confining grip. He turned me around, his cold eyes glinting dangerously. My breath hitched as he pushed me away to smack painfully against the wall right next to Petunia. Before I could make to run, my shoulders were held in place and I stared once more up at Lucius. 

He curled his upper lip and then whispered without breaking eye contact, "Do the honors, won't you, Regulus?" 

"Certainly. _Petrificus Totalus,_ " Regulus waved his wand and I found my limbs unable to move. Now, I felt myself panicking, especially after feeling Malfoy's breath on my cheek. 

"Expelliarmus . . . Expelliarmus . . ." the largest oaf's wand, and both mine and Black's wands, flew in the air into an outstretched hand. Lucius whipped around, and Goyle froze his actions. I looked passed Malfoy's shoulder and if at all possible, I would have collapsed from relief. 

"Shouldn't you be fighting off lusting twelve-year-old girls with your heart-throbbing friends?" asked Regulus with a smirk, not at all bothered by distraction. 

"I decided to get some air." There was a pause, and then in a matter-of-fact tone, "Finite Incantatem." At once, the Bludger Brigade and the audience's cheers sounded out softly again. Petunia started to flail her arms to get Goyle off of her, and I kicked Malfoy's shin as hard as I could. Groaning, Malfoy absently let me go and I quickly ran over to Remus Lupin's taut face. 

"Thanks," I murmured, taking my wand from him. " _Petunia_ !" I said sharply, beckoning her away from Goyle. 

"Stupefy," said Remus, directing his curse at Goyle, who immediately collapsed. Petunia took one frightened glance at Goyle, then up at Remus, then glared at me. Without a word, she ran off as fast as she could. I opened my mouth to call out to her, but decided against it and looked back at the situation in front of me. 

" What do you think you're doing?" demanded Remus, tossing the conscious three a filthy look, putting a hand absently on my shoulder. 

"Just having a little fun, Moony," Regulus shrugged. Remus shot him a warning look. Regulus was probably the only one here besides me to actually know who Remus was, being Sirius' brother. 

"They were trying. . . ." I trailed off, glaring at them. 

"You were warned, Regulus," Remus informed him in a restrained tone. "You knew the consequences." 

Regulus just shrugged moodily. Remus glared at them before saying, "Get your friend and leave. Now." 

Lucius made to raise his wand threateningly, but Regulus stepped forward and placed a restraining hand on his arm. "Don't." Regulus looked back at Remus and I and said rather mockingly, "Give Sirius my regards." 

Remus and I stood there, watching them pass us warily. And only when they were completely out of sight did I allow myself to relax.

* * *

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I didn't edit it, so I'm sorry about the mistakes you found when reading it. The next chapter, I'm pretty sure, is the last. Thank you for all your reviews! 


	17. The End

I took well-deserved deep breath and shakily pushed some haphazard curls from my face. I had no idea what would have happened- what those four would have been capable of doing if given a few more minutes- but I knew that if someone hadn't intervened like Remus had, the outcome of the night would have been bleak. The Malfoys, though I hadn't met any of them before now, weren't people who should be provoked or crossed. Lucius Malfoy was a few years older than me, and graduated well before I had ever attended Hogwarts, but his reputation preceded him with whispering gossipers in the halls and articles in the Daily Prophet from time to time. 

I rubbed my arms and muttered, "What was a Malfoy doing here in Chicago, anyways?" 

It wasn't the ideal way see one of the four again, and I was suddenly very aware that the time last we spoke, I left without a single goodbye. 

Remus turned to look at me, swiftly pocketing his wand. I sheepishly avoided his gaze, following his actions to stow my own wand safely away. The Bludger Brigade was still playing, their tone echoing lightly in our silence. 

"Regulus- the black-haired one- he's Sirius' brother. It's a long story that I won't go into, but Sirius sometimes invites him to our concerts. I guess he decided to bring some friends- namely, Malfoy," Remus informed me grimly. 

I nodded and looked down at my feet. One of my heels was scuffed around the edges, probably from my swift kick to Malfoy's shin. Dirty prat. 

"I hate him," I whispered, blinking back tears. I was tired and emotional, and really only wanted to take a bath. I sniffed and took another deep breath. 

Remus nodded, staring at the wall. "Regulus." 

"Malfoy," I corrected, holding back a shudder just remembering the feeling of his hands. 

Remus sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Who doesn't?" He shrugged wryly. 

A tense silence descended on us. I knew we were both thinking about the same thing. He wanted some sort of explanation from me. From my viewpoint, I really had no idea what James decided to tell his friends. Catching Sirius' eye during the concert, and his reaction, only left me confused on many more levels. 

Remus had saved me, but he wasn't the type of guy to just let something like that happen without trying his best to intervene. All the blokes of Black Magic were decent, so the fact that Remus had helped . . . well, that didn't give me much of a clue what he thought of me now. But the silence did give me some direction of his feelings. And the way he avoided my eye added to it. 

"Thanks," I told him softly. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't have shown up." 

"I can take a guess." 

His last few replies were short and to-the-point. His taut expression- one I previously perceived as anger directed towards those despicable toerags- hadn't softened the slightest. He was angry with me. 

"And," I hesitated, my pride becoming an issue. "I . . . that is to say . . ." 

He closed his eyes for a moment before turning to look at me. I cowered slightly under the intimidating image of his accusing eyes and stiff jaw. My eyelids swept down sheepishly. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Why did you do it?" he was quick to ask, like he'd been waiting a lifetime for this moment. 

I opened my mouth to retort just as quickly, but found I needed a few minutes to actually find some plausible explanation to justify my actions. Scratching the back of my neck, I shrugged. 

"I . . . I'm not all too sure what James told you," I thought to start off slowly and rather meekly. 

Remus stepped forward and then turned, leaning back against the wall. It happened in a split second: his taut face relaxed, his eyes softened with understanding, and he nodded. Just before I could consider the fact that he might have been hit with some sort of mood-altering charm, he said, "I see. James." A ghost of a smile traced along his lips. "So, how'd you find that out?" 

"What?" 

"You called him James," Remus informed me. "I wasn't sure, but I had a feeling that might have had something to do with your disappearing act." 

"Oh, er," I blushed, looking down to observe my wand instead of watching Remus watch me. "Yes, erm . . . I was walking by a door. Um, you lot had all been talking behind it." I paused before going on in a whisper, "I found out James was . . . James." 

"So you left? I must say, Lily, you do have a way of leaving a trail of drama in your wake. Turned James upside down, you did." 

My eyes snapped up to him. "Yeah, well, it's not like I really meant to do anything like that. I didn't ask to hear all that stuff-" 

"You eavesdropped!" said Remus, laughing in what I perceived as an incredulous way. "If that's not _all_ _your_ doing, I don't know what is-" 

"Fine, yes, but I didn't ask to be lied to!" 

"Oh, come off it, Lily! Can you really blame him? If Sirius hadn't taken it upon himself to reveal the rest of us to you first, I would have lied to you as well." 

"A fine confession. I suppose you thought you couldn't trust me, then," I sniffed, crossing my arms self-righteously. 

"Yeah, that's right!" Remus stepped a little closer to me, not breaking eye-contact. "We knew you for _one day_ , Lily. I don't know how easy it is for _you_ to trust someone, but, please, put yourself in our shoes for even just a moment: I'm- _we're_ - Black Magic. It's not every day we reveal ourselves to strangers. 

"Curse it, Lily! I don't think you've grasped the magnitude of this. The _entire_ magical population is placed under a special type of Confundus Charm so as not to reveal our identities- yes, Lily, even you. We went to school with hundreds of students and teachers that knew us quite well even before we were Black Magic and because of the clever intuition of Albus Dumbledore, our secret was never to be known to anyone but who we wanted to know. I could go up to anyone on the street as Remus Lupin, and no one would be any the wiser that I'm a drummer." 

I stayed silent. 

"A select few- families, close friends, and Albus Dumbledore- are the only ones that know who the members of Black Magic really are. And then, just a few days ago, Sirius decided you should know, too. Merlin only knows _why_ he felt compelled to tell you," finished Remus tiredly. 

I let everything I'd just heard sink in. Confundus Charms on _everyone_ . That concept winded me. Of course, concerning a great wizard like Albus Dumbledore, many things winded me. 

And then there was Sirius. Why _did_ he tell me who he was? Was it in his nature to spill secrets like that to anyone who would listen? He wasn't that reckless, from what I could tell. Surely he had some tact. The question nagged at me, but a stronger one occurred. 

"So," I said quietly, the hall still buzzing from Remus' loud outburst, "do you regret that he did it? Told me, that is?" 

He was breathing heavily, as though he'd just run a long distance. Still leaning against the wall, he halfheartedly kicked one foot back against the bricks. I watched him as a rainbow of emotions flitted across his face. Just as I began to think he wasn't going to answer, he asked, "Are you really sorry you left?" 

"I'm sorry I hurt James," I replied, running a shaking hand through my limp curls. 

Remus nodded, satisfied. Then, pulling something out of his pocket, he pushed off from the wall and walked towards me. "Here." He took my hand and placed a thick slab of chocolate on my palm. I stared at him weirdly for a moment. 

"Sorry, I'm not in the mood for sweets . . ." 

"It'll make you feel better. Now, eat," he insisted. Tentatively, I took a few small bites. My insides felt better after a few seconds, but I made no mention of that to him. In fact, I finished the rest in silence, glancing at Remus from time to time. 

"Thanks," I murmured after I'd finished. 

"Trick my mum taught me; chocolate always seems to remedy a nasty situation," informed Remus. "I don't regret it, by the way, that Sirius told you." 

"You don't?" 

"No," he answered firmly. "I admit that when we'd found you gone . . . well, I had my suspicions that maybe you'd rat us out. Now that I trust that you haven't . . ." He breathed out a laugh. "I meant what I said about you drawing out drama wherever you go. You do have James in a right state, but I suppose maybe that's a good thing. He's never been one to put himself out there with girls- don't get me wrong, he's not shy around them, or anything; he's actually been rather arrogant on some occasions. But, you . . . Sirius, Peter, and I, we all had a talk last night about you two. We think you're good for him-" 

"See, that's where I really must disagree," I interrupted, now wringing my hands. "I'm not good for him. Remus, I've thought about this . . . _a lot. . ._ You know first hand how I handled the thought of a relationship with him-" 

"You were shocked," said Remus, ironically defending me against actions he had a few minutes prior been accusing me of. 

"Yes, and afraid, mortified, at the prospect of dating someone half the world wants to date, too." I crossed my arms. I briefly wondered where Petunia ran off to. Chances are she left me for real this time. 

"Don't make this out to be more complicated than it really is," said Remus lightly. "He's pretty upset, but I can talk to him. He was afraid you . . . betrayed him or something, but once I tell him-" 

"That's really, really not necessary, Remus." I stepped forward to retrieve my purse, which had fallen earlier. I distractedly searched through it to make sure I still had everything I needed. "I mean . . . I'm not . . . who am _I_ ? James Potter with a nobody like _me?_ It's just," I shrugged and let out a disheartening laugh, "I mean, it'd be too hard, Remus. Now, I'm sorry without saying goodbye, but part of me isn't sorry that I left." 

He seemed disconcerted at the turn this conversation was making. With a hint of earnest laced in his voice, he said, "Let me just talk to James." He grasped my shoulder, "Then you two can talk; it's never wise to leave things unresolved like this." 

"Remus, I'm sorry." I shook my head, backing away from him. "Thank you for saving my sister and I; I- I don't think I can really express how. . .well," I gripped my purse a little bit tighter, "just. . . tell the guys I said hello. 

"Maybe . . . maybe, we'll see each other sometime in Diagon Alley," I shrugged, flashing him a weak smile, and then turned around. Hearing him call my name, I resolutely quickened my pace. Luckily, he didn't follow.

* * *

It turns out Petunia had left without me. She'd been hysterical after she ran off, and bolted straight to her car. I had taken a cab home, having to wake my father up so he could pay the difference to the cab driver. It had been a long night, with me explaining to him why I actually arrived in a cab and the details of the night over a cup of hot chocolate under the his warm gaze. I went further, and explained the events of my trip here, Jim-James, the rest of Black Magic, and the reason I left Remus standing in the hall completely defeated. 

We were sitting on the couch in the living room, in front of the still fiercely burning fire. I'd taken a quick shower and put pajamas on when I first arrived, before going into all the details to my father. Now, after everything was said and done, I sat there, with my legs curled underneath me, a soft afghan my grandmother knitted before she passed away settled tightly around me. My dad sat with his sock-covered feet propped up on the coffee table, sipping occasionally from his cooling cup of tea. He appeared pensive, while I frowned into my empty cup. 

"Sounds like you've had quite a week," he finally noted. 

"Yeah," I answered softly. 

"You know," said Dad with a small, wistful smile, "when your mother and I decided to divorce, I'm not too sure we went about it in the most tactful direction." 

Startled, for my father never talked about Mom, I looked at him. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean," he sighed, "Lily, I know I'm not in any position to make assumptions about your life; the last time we saw each other was when I was just moving in to this house two years ago. And even with phone calls and-," he breathed a laugh, "and owls, well, I don't know all that much about you anymore- that's why I asked you to come. 

"From what I've been able to learn from sparse phone calls from your mom, I know you're having a hard time getting close to people." 

I twirled the silver ring on my right-hand, ring finger and asked in a nonchalant voice, "Why do you say that?" 

"I heard you don't see much of Sarah or Millie anymore, or any of your old friends from school." 

"We kind of grew apart," I explained. "Sarah's always wanted travel, learn about different types of plants and stuff; she was always brilliant in Herbology. And Millie, well, pursuing a Ministry career takes up a lot of her free time." 

Dad nodded empathetically, "And studying to be a doctor must take a lot of time as well." 

"Healer, Daddy," I corrected, grinning. 

"Right, Healer. It must take up a lot of your time, too." 

"I suppose so." I leaned over to set my cup down on the coffee table. 

"So much time that I haven't heard you talking about any new boys recently- well, until now, that is." I avoided his gaze opting for burning my retinas by staring avidly into the fire. When I said nothing, he continued, "You sound like you're rather fond of this James fellow." 

"That's not the point," I said. "He's . . . he's _James Potter_ -" 

"Yes, you've told me that about three times now," my dad smiled, amused. "He's just a boy, princess." 

"He's not _just_ a _boy_ , though." I licked my lips, trying to find the right words, and very much aware that this was my father I was spilling my heart to. "I just . . . he's special." 

"He's famous," my dad elaborated. 

"No!" I exclaimed, but quickly reddened after that. Going on in a quieter tone, I said, "No, it's not because of his fame. I knew he was, for lack of a better word, special when I first met him. He was so kind and sweet." 

"But, he lied to you," he pointed out. 

"Yes, but . . . he did it because he wasn't sure he could trust me. I mean, well, I can understand why he didn't. I've only known them for one day, after all, and I'm sure anyone in his position would be cautious." 

He stayed silent, and I continued softly, "He likes to dance. Both Rodger and David hated to dance." 

Dad scoffed at the mentions of both my ex-boyfriends; he never did approve of them. Grant it, when I was dating David, I had just turned thirteen and my dad felt I was too young for a relationship. And Peter, well, he was having a rather off week when he met my dad. He didn't think highly of either of them. 

"I always had this dream of dancing with someone all alone, in silence. Someone I was comfortable with; with whom I didn't need to hear music, because we'd make our own." My pulse quickened when I felt my eyes mist over. 

"Well," my dad said briskly, standing up and retrieving both empty mugs, "who better qualified than a musician?" My eyes darted to him. 

" Night, pumpkin. Don't stay up too late." He swooped down to kiss my forehead affectionately before standing again, glancing out the window behind the couch. "The snow's kind of pretty at night, isn't it?" 

With that, he left the room, leaving me to watch the fire lose some of its severity and attempt to tame my wild thoughts. I listened as he put the cups in the sink, heard him flick the light switch off, and then listened as he made his way up the creaking stairs to his bedroom. 

Tugging on my sloppy ponytail, I silently turned and adjusted myself to my knees. I stared out the window, watching the snowflakes catching the beams of streetlights, and was suddenly reminded of watching a similar scene that night looking out a pair of glass doors. Before, I had cringed at the sight, not really keen finding a ride home in that. Now, though, under different circumstances, in warm pajamas, wrapped in a soft quilt with the fireplace illuminated, the snow looked so peaceful, so right. It was, at that moment, after all evening's murkiness had passed, a perfect winter night. 

Sometime that night, I fell asleep.

* * *

"She disowns me- ha! _I _ disown _her,_ " I muttered to myself, viciously pulling each of my coat buttons through their slits. What was it about Petunia that caused my patience to dwindle and my mood to instantly die? 

The snowfall had ceased by late the next morning. It was about ten o'clock, and my lovely sister was already driving me out of the house. I tied a scarf around neck, too distracted to notice I was choking myself until the coarse fabric scratched uncomfortably against my skin. 

"I'll be back later, Dad," I called out before loudly shutting the door. I trudged along the shoveled sidewalk, hardly taking note of where I was walking. My mind was one-tracked, so my anger at Petunia soon faded and I focused completely on- who else?- James. 

Eventually, I stopped walking and looked around. I had long since strayed from shoveled ground and was now leaving footprints along a wide field. From the thick array of trees in front of me now, I cleverly deduced that I must have walked to the outskirts of a small forest. It was a pretty clearing; undisturbed banks of snow, and the trees were highlighted with a large conglomeration of flakes on their branches. It was overcast that morning, and it looked like it could start to snow at any moment. 

Checking my watch, I saw that I had been walking for a little less than thirty minutes. I shouldn't be too far from Dad's house, and Petunia was probably still there, ranting and raving. I took out my wand and conjured up a rod iron bench to sit on, planning to wait out my sister. 

I sat there for a few minutes until my ears perked to the sound of crunchy snow behind me. Curious to see who else would have walked all the way out here, I turned slightly to sneak a quick glance over my shoulder. It took a few minutes to register, but when it did, I did a double-take. Turning a little more, I rested a glove-clad hand on the back of the bench for balance, watching James Potter slowly and steadily walk towards me. 

My expression was one of utter shock, my eyes popping out of their sockets and my jaw suspended. When I met his gaze head on, I quickly gathered myself and stared back at him apprehensively. Whatever I was feeling at that moment, though, couldn't stop me from noticing just how attractive he looked with his hair windblown messier and his cheeks flushed from the cold. He shot me a small smile with a hint of reassurance hidden somewhere on his lips. 

James slowed as he drew nearer and gradually came to a full stop a few feet away from the bench. "Hi," he greeted, kicking away some fresh snow by his feet. 

"Hi," I repeated cautiously. "What, er . . . what are you doing here? How'd you find me?" 

James, who didn't answer, observed his surroundings for a moment before asking, "Can I sit down?" 

"Oh!" I glanced down quickly before looking back up. "Yes, please, er, have a seat." I turned back around to sit properly, folding my hands nervously on my lap. Once he was next to me, I began fidgeting. 

We sat in silence for a few moments before James broke it by saying, "You weren't this antsy on the flight." 

I forced myself to stop moving, opting instead to inspect my mittens. "Sorry. You do have to admit, this is a little awkward." He rubbed his hands together, and I noticed he wasn't wearing gloves. "Where's your mittens?" 

"Peter knocked a bottle of firewisky on them last night." He shrugged in good humor and added sarcastically, "Serves me right, though. I shouldn't have left them on a coffee table." 

"Why didn't you just clean them; you _do_ have your wand, don't you?" 

"Well, yes, but you see, Peter is a terrible drunk," James explained conversationally. "And he decided, before I could intervene, that they couldn't be salvaged, and so the crazy bloke threw them into the fireplace." My eyebrows shot up and a smile played across my mouth. "Never allow Peter with alcohol near open flames; it's a right mess, that is." I laughed, and he joined in, both of us happy to have some sort of icebreaker. 

When the laughter died down, I decided it was my turn to contribute something to this conversation- and my input was definitely not going to earn a laugh. "I'm sorry, James. I never should have left the way I did." 

He said nothing for a moment, but then replied, "Did you enjoy the concert?" He met my gaze. "You finally got to see one." 

"It was great," I told him earnestly. "The concert . . . not the rest of it." 

"Yeah, Remus told me about last night," said James with a hint of bitterness in his own. "Sirius had a talk with his brother; Regulus isn't allowed at anymore concerts. The Ministry got a hold of them, too, because they used magic, but Malfoy's family intervened as usual." 

"Figures," I mumbled. I really owe Remus." 

"How's your sister?" asked James, pushing his hands into his pocket for warmth. 

I shrugged and said wryly, "She crashed her car last night. Ran into a wooden fence on her way home because she was so worked up." James made some sort of sympathetic noise, so I quickly went on, "Don't worry about her; she blames the whole thing on me, so she'll be fine." I rolled my eyes and tightened my scarf slightly. 

He changed the topic, "I guess I owe you an apology, too. I shouldn't have lied to you about who I am." 

"I was angry," I said, wrinkling my nose as the redundancy of that statement. 

"I know. So was I," he remarked. "I guess all along I'd been expecting the worst; I was kind of hoping you'd do something like that, so I could fool myself into believing I was doing the right thing by not telling you who I really was. That I was right by not trusting you." 

"I know why you did, though. I understand why you didn't trust me." I took a deep breath. "Remus made some fantastic points last night. You had only known me one day. But, James, you have to believe me . . . I'd never go after someone because of their fortune. I'm not that type of girl." 

"I know . . . not many of those types of girls would have left like you did once they found out just who I was." 

"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled. "You know, 'James' suits you better than 'Jim'." 

He tossed me a lopsided smile that made my heart flutter. 

Then, there was another silence. We'd both apologized and forgave one another, and I'd been relieved of a lot of tension by just that thought. We'd moved passed that problem, but what was next? James took it into his own hands by saying, "I don't know what it is about you, Lily. I've . . . It seems unreal how short the time's been since we've known each other. I feel like I've known you for years." I avoided his eyes , my resolve to forget about a relationship with James weakening by the honesty and wonder in his tone. Yesterday, when I left Remus, it seemed impossible to even consider that I might see him again, much less have another chance to be with him. And, I tried to tell myself I was fine with it. I tried to bury my doubt underneath thick layers of false assurance, telling myself that something so potentially complicated was not the route I should be taking. But, with our surroundings- a pristine backdrop with no other living thing around, with nothing but James, me, and the humble bench to taint the picturesque scenery- I found myself adapting to the simplicity of it all. 

"I know this is fast," James continued, and I found myself marveling at how calm and collected he held himself, "but, Lily," He turned slightly in his seat, taking his hands out of his pocket to reach and and hold mine, "I'd like to see how things go if . . . if you'd consider dating me." 

Despite the cold weather, I felt the heat from his hands through the fabric of my mittens. The heat spread up to my cheeks. Staring down at our hands, I chewed on the inside of my cheek and mulled over his words. Date James. Be James' girlfriend; James Potter, my boyfriend. A relationship. "James, don't you think it'd be hard?" I asked him, regret in my voice, "I mean, you're on tour for so much time out of the year- how often are you actually in England? I just don't think it would work." 

He moved closer to me, and after forcing myself to meet his gaze, I saw the same earnest expression that Remus was wearing last night before I left. "Lily," I said softly. "As long as there's a chance it could . . . Merlin, these last few days have been the most miserable ones I've ever lived." 

I took a deep breath, "Same here." 

That seemed to motivate him. "Then, don't you think, it might be worth the risk to just- just _try_ ?" 

"But, the tours, James-" I insisted weakly. 

"We don't even need to think about that right now; yesterday's performance was the last one of this tour," explained James. "And, as for future ones . . . well, you've seemed to handle yourself pretty well thus far- with a few minor complications, mind you. My mates seem rather taken with you. 

I swallowed and licked my lips. "What are you saying?" 

"I'm saying," he shrugged, beginning to play with my fingers, "You've bewitched me, Lily. And, I'd want you to come along with us if we do another tour." 

"Seriously?" I exclaimed. "James, you don't know anything about me." 

"I've got time to learn," responded James. "This isn't an engagement, Lily. All I'm asking for is . . . a date. Would you come along with me to have a cup of coffee?" 

" . . . No." 

He stopped playing with my fingers, looking away from me. "Oh," was his only reply. James let go of my hands and began to stand, but I touched his arm and he paused. 

"Why don't we just sit here for a while?" I whispered, throwing all my concerns and inhibitions about dating a rock star away. It began to snow. He turned back around to look at me, his sudden, hopeful smile making him look childlike. I made the right choice. "Get to know one another a little better? I only know what the magazine-" 

"Wait," he interrupted quietly. "There's just something I . . ." He trailed off, and instead of taking my hands into his again like I thought he'd do, he instead cradled my face and slowly maneuvered closer to me. 

I had envisioned kissing James Potter a lot over the past week, but none of my dreams had ever come close to how the real thing felt. His intoxicating presence overwhelmed my senses, heightening each sensation his warm, extremely soft lips provided. Feeling as though I'd just consumed five bottles of butterbeer in less than ten seconds, I responded slowly to the kiss, my breath hitching when his thumbs swept across my cheeks, leaving a strong, tingling sensation in their wake. He took one hand away and deftly wrapped it around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I reached up and grasped one of his lapels, my other hand sweeping through his damp hair. 

When he pulled back after what felt like years, leaving us both breathing heavily, he kissed the side of my mouth . "I've wanted to do that all week." 

I grinned, staring at his lips, transfixed. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah . . . you looked so cute after you took that nap on the plane." He pushed some of my hair behind my ears. "Beautiful green eyes still clouded over; hair tousled . . ." He traced a cool finger down the side of my face to my chin. "A trail of drool dribbling down your chin." 

My eyes widened in mortification. He began to laugh quietly, pecking away a snowflake that had landed on my cheek. I closed my eyes and took in his scent. "You never answered: How'd you know where I was?" 

"Some savvy detective work." I quirked my eyebrow, and he elaborated, "Remus asked Frank, who phoned Alice, who owled one of your friends, who told us your dad's address." 

My eyebrows shot up. "That's a lot of work." 

"Eh, you're worth it." I blushed. 

"But, how'd you find me _here. _ Dad didn't know where I was going," I said. 

"Simple," he shrugged, "I followed your footsteps." 

"Ah," I grinned. 

"And, I have a message for you, too," James informed me with a toothy grin, hugging me to him. 

"What's that?" I asked, closing my eyes. 

"Lunch is in . . ." I felt him fidget, and through a half-opened eye, I saw him glance at a muggle wristwatch. "fifteen minutes. We really ought to head back; I left Remus, Peter, and Sirius with your Dad back at your house. Peter'll never shut up if we're late for lunch, and Sirius will probably want my head for taking so long to bring you back." 

I pulled back and laughed, smoothing down the front of his coat. "Okay," I replied eagerly, looking forward to what awaited us at home. James stood and pulled me up as well, resting an affectionate arm around my waist. We made our way gingerly through the snow. I couldn't keep a smile off of my face. 

"I'll be wanting that cup of coffee with you sometime soon," James warned me. 

I glanced up at him. "You'll have plenty of coffee dates with me," I assured him.

* * *

_Nox_

* * *

A/N: Well, there you have it, ladies and gents. I'm not sure I liked the ending of this, but I'm satisfied enough to leave it this way. Also, for those of you who don't wish to see this end, I'm planning out a sequel that should be up sometime soon. I don't have a title to give you yet, so as far as finding it, I'd recommend adding me to your author alert list, or just checking my profile from time to time; whatever you want to do. Anyways, thank you so much for reading this story. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 


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